;-NRLF 


B    3    332    Ifll 


BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON 


i&M 


LUCKY  TOM  SERIES.— No.  3. 


THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK 

OB 

TOM  MASON'S  LUCK 

h  0  *  d  /'  e. 

n 
BY 

HARRY  CASTLEMON 

4UTHOB  OP  "THE  GUNBOAT  SERIES,"  "ROCKY  MOTOTTAIH 

SERIES,"   **  WAR  SERIES,"   ETC. 


THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  GO., 

PHILADELPHIA, 
CHICAGO,  TORONTO. 


COPYRIGHT,  1895, 

BY 
PORTER  &  COATES. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  RIGHT  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  IT,           ...  1 

II.  MR.  DAVENPORT'S  SECRET,         ...  22 

III.  'RASTUS  JOHNSON, 40 

IV.  ELAM'S  POOR  MARKSMANSHIP,     ...  59 
V.  THE  WEST  FORK  OF  TRINITY,        ...  79 

VI.  MR.  DAVENPORT'S  POCKET-BOOK,        .        .  99 

VII.  TOM  HAS  AN  IDEA, 119 

VIII.  TOM'S  LUCK, 139 

IX.  HENDERSON  is  ASTONISHED,           .       .       .  159 

X.  OFF  FOR  AUSTIN, 179 

XI.  HENDERSON  IN  NEW  BUSINESS,      .       .        .  198 

XII.  HE  DOES  NOT  SUCCEED,      ....  219 

XIII.  HENDERSON  MEETS  COYOTE  BILL,          .        .  239 

XIV.  PROVING  THE  WILL,            ....  261 
XV.  TOM  GETS  SOME  MONEY,        .        .        .        .282 

XVI.  A  RAID  BY  THE  COMANCHES,      ...  303 

XVII.  MY  FRIEND  THE  OUTLAW,      .        .        .        .325 

XVIII.  CONCLUSION, 346 

ill 


M35648 


THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK; 

OB, 

TOM  MASON'S  LUCK. 


CHAPTER  1. 

EIGHT   IN  THE   MIDST   OF   IT. 
CATTLEMEN  AND  FARMERS  READY  FOR  WAR. 

FORT  WORTH,  August  5,  18 — .  One  hundred  and 
seventy-five  thousand  head  of  cattle  are  being1  slowly 
drifted  and  driven  from  the  drought-parched  sections 
of  Northwestern  Texas  into  Jacks  County,  along  the 
waters  of  the  West  Fork  of  Trinity.  The  herders  who 
accompany  them  demand  that  they  must  have  grass 
and  water,  or  blood.  The  farmers,  who  will  be  greatly 
damaged  by  the  passage  of  these  immense  herds, 
are  arming  and  say  the  cattle  shall  not  come  in — that 
they  must  be  driven  back  at  all  hazards.  To  permit 
them  to  pass  means  fences  destroyed,  crops  ruined,  and  the 
meagre  supply  of  water  exhausted ;  to  turn  them  back 
means  death  to  the  cattle  and  financial  disaster  to  the 
men  who  own  them.  To-day  the  news  was  carried  from 
house  to  house,  and  the  farmers  are  turning  out  to  a 
man,  resolved  to  rendezvous  011  Bear  Creek  and  forbid 


2  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

the  driving  of  the  cattle  through  their  lands.  Large 
squads  have  gone  to  the  front,  and  they  are  well-armed 
and  desperate.  Sheriff  Reins  will  be  on  hand  to-morrow, 
and  so  will  a  company  of  militia  under  command  of  Cap- 
tain Fuller.  Several  conflicts,  involving  the  loss  of  >ix 
or  seven  lives,  have  already  taken  place  between  the 
cattlemen  and  the  farmers,  the  particulars  of  which  have 
not  yet  found  publicity. 

j  -."Of  all .ilkj .  1>£>y-s  into  whose  hands  this  story 
may  fall,, and. who- make  it  a  point  to  read  the 
uaHy  ^Upfers^r*%enture  to  say  that  not  one  in 
a  hundred  will  remember  that  he  ever  saw  the 
above  despatch,  which  was  flashed  over  the 
wires  one  bright  summer  morning  a  few  years 
ago  ;  but  if  those  boys  had  been  on  the  ground 
as  I  was,  and  witnessed  the  thrilling  and  affect- 
ing scenes  that  transpired  before  and  after  that 
despatch  was  written,  they  would  have  seen 
some  things  that  time  could  never  efface  from 
their  memories. 

If  ever  I  saw  suffering  cattle  or  determined, 
almost  desperate,  men,  who  were  fairly  spoiling 
for  a  fight,  it  was  on  that  sweltering  August 
day  when  a  big  brown-whiskered  man,  a 
wealthy  farmer  of  Jacks  County,  accompa- 
nied by  the  sheriff  and  two  deputies,  rode 


BIGHT   IN  THE  MIDST   OF  IT.  3 

up  to  the  wagon  and  demanded  to  see  "  the 
boss."  Around  the  wagon  were  gathered  a 
weary  and  dusty  party  of  men  and  boys, 
who  had  come  there  to  slake  their  thirst, 
and  John  Chisholm,  the  man  to  whose  enter- 
prise and  push  the  great  Texas  cattle  trade 
owed  its  existence,  was  just  raising  a  cup  of 
the  precious  fluid  to  his  lips.  I  say  "pre- 
cious" because  our  supply  was  limited,  and 
the  nearest  stream  far  away. 

"  It  tastes  as  though  it  had  been  boiled  for 
a  week,"  said  he,  after  he  had  moistened  his 
parched  mouth,  "  but  every  drop  of  it  is  worth 
its  weight  in  gold.  Touch  it  lightly,  boys, 
for  there  is  no  telling  when  we  shall  be  able 
to  fill  the  cask  again.  Have  any  of  the  scouts 
come  in  yet?  If  we  don't  find  a  pool  pretty 
soon  we  shall  all  be  ruined.  Just  see  there !  " 
he  added,  waving  hfs  hand  toward  the  back 
trail.  u  A  blind  man  could  easily  follow  our 
route,  for  every  rod  of  it  is  marked  with  dead 
beeves." 

It  would  have  taken  something  besides  a 
."  pool  "  of  water  to  quench  the  thirst  of  that 
multitude  of  cattle,  which  were  drifting  along 


4  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

a  mile  or  so  in  advance  of  the  wagon,  almost 
concealed  by  the  suffocating  cloud  of  dust 
that  hung  over  them  and  pointed  out  their 
line  of  travel.  Just  how  many  of  them  there 
were  in  the  herd  the  most  experienced  cattle- 
man could  not  guess,  for  the  flanks  of  the 
drove  as  well  as  its  leading  members  were  far 
out  of  sight.  There  were  more  than  a  dozen 
outfits  mixed  up  together,  no  attempt  having 
been  made  to  keep  them  apart  ;  nor  was  there 
any  effort  made  to  control  their  movements 
beyond  keeping  them  headed  toward  the  West 
Fork  of  Trinity,  the  nearest  point  at  which 
water  could  be  obtained.  The  suffering  beasts 
complained  piteously  as  they  plodded  along, 
and  now  and  then  deep  mutterings  of  chal- 
lenge and  defiance,  followed  by  a  commotion 
somewhere  in  the  herd,  would  indicate  the  spot 
where  perhaps  a  dozen  of  the  half  maddened 
animals  had  closed  in  deadly  combat.  It  was 
little  wonder  that  the  sixty  bronzed  and 
weather-beaten  men  who  accompanied  them 
were  in  fighting  humor,  and  ready  to  resist  to 
the  death  any  interference  with  their  efforts 
to  find  water  or  grass.  They  were  almost  con- 


EIGHT  IN   THE   MIDST   OF   IT.  5 

surned  with  thirst  themselves.  Every  drop  of 
water  they  drank  was  brought  along  in  the 
wagon,  and  there  was  so  little  of  it  that  no 
one  thought  of  taking  more  than  a  swallow  at 
a  time.  Scouts  had  been  sent  out  early  in  the 
morning  with  instructions  to  search  every- 
where for  a  water-course,  and  it  was  as  Mr. 
Chisholm  enquired  about  them,  and  handed 
back  the  cup  he  had  drained,  that  the  sheriff 
rode  up  and  asked  to  see  "  the  boss." 

"'Pears  to  me  as  if  this  outfit  was  bossing 
itself,"  replied  Mr.  Chisholm,  facing  about  in 
his  saddle  and  looking  sharply  at  the  new- 
comers. "You  can  see  for  yourself,  without 
looking,  that  all  we  can  do  is  to  keep  the  crit- 
ters pointed  toward  the  West  Fork.  But  you 
don' t  belong  on  our  side  of  the  house.  Where 
might  you  hail  from  ?  " 

"I  am  sheriff  of  this  county,  and  came  out 
to  tell  you  that  you  must  not  trespass  on  the 
grounds  of  our  farmers,"  answered  the  officer. 

"  Well,  then,  Avhat  do  you  come  to  us  for  ?  " 
enquired  Mr.  Chisholm,  while  the  men  around 
him  scowled  savagely  and  played  with  the 
locks  of  their  rifles.  "Go  and  serve  your 


6  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

warning  on  the  critters.  Can't  you  see  that 
some  of  them  are  miles  ahead  of  us  ?  How  are 
we  going  to  turn  them  back  when  our  horses 
are  nigh  about  as  ready  to  drop  as  the  cattle 
are  ?  I  tell  you  it  can't  be  done  !  " 

"Don't  you  know  it  means  ruin  to  us  far- 
mers if  we  allow  those  famishing  cattle  to  get 
into  our  fields  \  "  demanded  the  brown-whisk- 
ered man,  who  seemed  quite  as  ready  and 
willing  to  fight  as  the  cattlemen  were.  "  They 
will  break  down  our  fences  and  eat  up  the 
very  crops  on  which  our  lives  depend.  Be- 
sides, there  are  no  more  grass  and  water  in 
the  country  than  we  want  ourselves." 

"I'm  powerful  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that, 
but  I  don't  see  what  we  are  going  to  do  about 
it,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm.  "We've  got  to  go 
somewhere  now  that  we  have  started." 

The  sheriff  opened  his  lips  to  speak,  but 
the  brown-whiskered  man  was  too  quick  for 
him. 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  going  to  do 
about  it,  don't  you?"  he  said,  with  a  savage 
emphasis.  "Well,  I  will  tell  you.  When 
you  get  to  the  top  of  that  swell  yonder  you 


RIGHT   IN   THE   MIDST   OF   IT.  7 

will  see,  a  couple  of  miles  off,  a  long  line  of 
willows." 

"  Now,  if  that  isn't  the  best  piece  of  news  I 
have  heard  for  a  week  I  wouldn't  say  so  !  "  ex- 
claimed the  cattleman.  "  Where  there's  tim- 
ber there  is  water,  of  course.  I  thought  the 
critters  were  a-travelling  along  a  trifle  pearter 
than  they  were  a  while  back.  Sam,  you  drive 
on  ahead  with  the  wagon  and  fill  up  the  cask, 
and  the  rest  of  us  will  kinder  scatter  out  on 
the  flanks  and  head  the  critters  toward  the 
willows  our  friend  speaks  of." 

"Will  you  let  me  get  through  with  what  I 
have  to  say?"  shouted  the  farmer,  his  face 
growing  white  with  anger.  ' '  You  go  near 
those  willows  if  you  dare !  There  are  more 
than  two  hundred  men  hidden  among  them, 
and  if  our  pickets  can' t  turn  your  cattle  back 
they' 11  shoot  them!" 

"Will,  eh?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Chisholm,  his 
face  wearing  a  good-natured  smile,  that  was 
very  aggravating  to  the  brown-whiskered 
farmer.  "I  hope  not,  for  if  you  shoot  our 
stock  we'll  have  to  shoot  you  to  pay  for  it. 
Look  a-here,"  he  added,  turning  his  horse 


8  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

about  and  riding  up  close  to  the  man  he 
was  addressing,  "I  tell  you  once  for  all, 
stranger " 

"  Hold  !  I  command  the  peace  !  "  cried  the 
sheriff,  seeing  that  the  men  and  boys  around 
the  wagon  were  moving  up  to  support  their 
leader.  ' '  Keep  back,  all  of  you  ! ' ' 

"The  peace  hasn't  been  broken  yet,"  replied 
Mr.  C  his  holm,  "and  I  assure  you  that  I  and 
my  friends  have  no  intention  of  breaking  it ; 
but  our  watchword  is,  '  Grass  and  water,  or 
blood ! '  and  it  is  for  you  to  decide  which  it 
shall  be.  We  are  not  the  men  to  stand  by 
with  our  hands  in  our  pockets  and  see  our 
stock  perish  for  want  of  something  to  eat  and 
drink,  and  you  misjudge  us  if  that  is  the 
kind  of  fellows  you  took  us  for.  You  farmers 
were  very  kind  to  yourselves  when  you  ran 
your  fences  along  every  water-course  in  the 
State,  so't  we  cattlemen  could  not  get  to 
it.  Water 's  free  and  we  want  our  share 
of  it." 

"  But  our  land  has  been  paid  for,  and  you 
have  no  right  to  come  upon  it  after  we  have 
told  you  to  keep  off,"  said  the  farmer. 


EIGHT   IN   THE   MIDST   OF   IT.  9 

4 *  Some  of  you  have  paid  for  the  land  you 
raise  crops  on  and  some  are  squatters  the 
same  as  we  cattlemen  are,"  answered  Mr. 
Chisholm,  becoming  earnest,  but  still  fighting 
to  keep  down  his  rising  anger.  "There  are 
miles  and  miles  of  these  streams  been  fenced 
in  and  shut  off  from  us  stock-raisers  without 
any  warrant  of  law,  and  now  we  are  going  to 
walk  over  some  of  them  same  fences." 

"  If  you  attempt  it  we  shall  shoot  you  down 
like  dogs  !  "  said  the  farmer  fiercely,  and  as  he 
spoke  he  lifted  his  rifle  an  inch  or  two  from 
the  horn  of  his  saddle,  as  if  he  had  half  a 
mind  to  begin  the  shooting  then  and  there. 

"Easy,  easy,  Mr.  Walker,"  interposed  the 
sheriff,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  angry  man's 
arrn.  "  We've  got  the  right  on  our  side  and 
the  whole  power  of  the  State  behind  us,  and 
there's  no  need  that  you  should  get  yourself 
into  trouble  by  taking  matters  into  your  own 
hands.  I  warn  you  to  turn  back,"  he  con- 
tinued, addressing  himself  to  Mr.  Chisholm. 
"  I  am  an  officer  of  the  law,  and  if  you  do  not 
pay  some  attention  to  what  I  say  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  arrest  you." 


10  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

The  cattleman  laughed,  not  loudly,  but 
heartily  and  silently. 

"I  reckon  you're  a  new  man  who  has  just 
been  put  into  office,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he 
could  speak.  "If  you  were  an  old  hand  at 
the  business  you  would  know  that  it  would 
take  pretty  considerable  of  a  posse  to  arrest 
any  man  in  this  outfit.  I  wouldn't  try  it  if  I 
were  sheriff." 

"  Well,  you  have  heard  my  warning,"  said 
Mr.  Walker,  "  and  the  blame  for  whatever 
happens  will  be  on  your  own  head.  Nearly 
all  the  farmers  in  the  county  have  assembled 
to  resist  your  advance,  and  they  sent  me  out 
here  to  tell  you  that  you  have  come  far 
enough.  Now,  will  you  turn  back  or  not  ?  " 

"  I  aint  got  much  patience  with  a  man  who 
has  two  good  eyes  in  his  head  to  keep  on  ask- 
ing such  a  question  as  that.  Of  course  we'll 
not  turn  back  !  We  can't !  " 

"Then  we  shall  drive  you  back,"  said  Mr. 
Walker.  "  That's  all  there  is  about  it.  Be- 
cause  the  drought  has  ruined  your  business 
you  need  not  think  we  are  going  to  let  you 
ruin  ours." 


EIGHT    IN   THE   MIDST   OF   IT.  11 

The  farmer  rode  away,  shaking  his  head  and 
muttering  to  himself,  and  paying  no  sort  of 
attention  to  the  sheriff,  who  spurred  to  his 
side  and  tried  to  reason  with  him.  After  a 
while  the  sheriff  came  back  to  expostulate 
with  the  leader  of  the  cattlemen ;  but  the 
latter  waved  him  aside. 

"I  don't  blame  you,  Mr.  Officer,"  said  he. 
"You  have  done  nothing  but  duty  in  warn- 
ing us  not  to  trespass  on  them  farmers' 
grounds,  but  you  see  how  we  are  fixed,  don't 
you?  We  can't  stop  where  we  are.  All  the 
cowboys  in  Texas  could  not  turn  the  critters 
back  now  that  they  have  got  a  sniff  of  the 
water  that  is  flashing  along  sparkling  and 
cold  behind  them  willows,  and  what  is  there 
left  for  us  but  to  go  on  ?  All  we  ask  of  you 
and  your  posse  is  to  keep  out  of  the  way. 
We  cattlemen  know  how  to  take  care  of 
ourselves." 

"  But  don't  you  see  that  I  can't  keep  out  of 
your  way?"  demanded  the  sheriff.  "  As  an 
officer  it  is  my  duty  to  oppose  your  further 
progress  !  " 

"  Then  it  will  be  my  duty  to  ride  over  you 


12  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

rough-shod,"  said  the  cattleman  cheerfully. 
"  I  don't  want  to  do  that,  for  you  seem  to  be  a 
good  sort,  even  if  you  are  an  officer.  If  you 
will  be  governed  by  the  advice  of  one  who 
knows  more  about  this  country  and  the"  men 
who  live  in  it  than  you  are  ever  likely  to 
learn,  you  will  ride  down  to  the  willows  and 
tell  them  farmers  to  fall  back  and  give  our 
perishing  stock  a  chance  at  the  water.  If 
they  will  listen  to  you  there  will  be  no 
trouble.  Me  and  my  friends  will  camp  nigh 
the  stream  to-night,  hold  a  council  of  war  in 
the  morning,  and  like  as  not  we'll  come  to 
some  sort  of  an  understanding.  But  I  can't 
spend  any  more  time  with  you.  If  you  or  the 
farmers  are  going  to  force  a  fight  upon  us,  we 
must  get  ready  for  it." 

So  saying  Mr.  Chisholm  waved  his  hand  to 
the  officer  and  rode  away,  leaving  us  three 
boys  from  the  North,  who  had  ridden  up  close 
to  hear  this  •  consultation  and  the  threats  it 
contained,  in  a  state  of  dreadful  uncertainty. 
We  had  come  from  our  homes,  somewhere 
near  Denver,  which  at  that  time  was  little 
more  than  a  sprinkling  of  miner  cabins,  with 


EIGHT  IN  THE  MIDST   OF  IT.  13 

no  such  thoughts  as  this  in  our  minds,  and 
here  we  were  right  in  the  midst  of  it— civil 
war!  We  had  come  down  there  to  invest  a 
few  hundred  dollars  in  cattle.  We  thought 
we  could  make  something  by  it.  By  keeping 
far  to  the  eastward,  along  the  banks  of  the 
Red  River,  we  had  got  beyond  reach  of  the 
Comanche  and  Kiowas  and  other  Indians 
who.  felt  inclined  to  steal  everything  we  had, 
and  then  by  turning  rapidly  to  the  west  had 
found  ourselves  right  among  the  cattlemen 
almost  before  we  knew  it. 

You  remember  that  there  were  three  of  us 
boys — Elam  Storm,  now  no  longer  moody  and 
reticent,  but  hail  fellow  well  met  with  every- 
body, for  we  had  found  the  nugget  of  which 
he  had  been  in  search  for  so  many  years  ; 
Tom  Mason,  who  went  by  the  name  of 
"  Lucky  Tom  "  ;  and  myself,  Carlos  Burton, 
upon  whom  devolves  the  duty  of  writing  this 
story.  We  had  seen  some  adventures  during 
our  long  ride,  some  that  I  would  gladly  like 
a  chance  to  relate  ;  but  they  differed  so 
widely  from  the  scenes  we  passed  through 
among  those  cattlemen  that  I  am  glad  to  pass 


14  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

them  by  to  tell  this  story  of  "Tom  Mason's 
luck."  Tom  was  a  lucky  fellow,  that's  a  fact, 
and  for  a  runaway  boy  he  had  a  good  deal  of 
pluck.  I  don't  know  that  he  thought  of  mak- 
ing any  money  at  the  time  he  was  working 
with  us,  but  at  the  same  time  he  took  the 
right  way  to  get  it.  You  know  he  was  trying 
to  scrape  together  five  thousand  dollars,  the 
amount  he  stole  from  his  uncle — a  large  sum 
for  a  boy  of  his  age  to  make  ;  but  he  had  that 
amount  and  more  too  when  he  went  home.  I 
will  tell  all  about  it  when  I  get  to  it. 

At  length,  when  we  had  been  so  long  on  our 
journey  that  Elam  and  Tom  declared  that  I 
had  missed  my  way,  we  ran  across  a  fence, 
and  that  night  we  struck  the  farmer's  house. 
I  noticed  that  there  was  corn  on  the  other  side 
of  the  fence,  and  that  instead  of  being  healthy 
and  green  and  thrifty-looking,  it  was  stunted 
and  its  leaves  were  beginning  to  turn  yellow. 
It  looked  as  though  it  was  all  ready  to  gather, 
only  there  was  not  the  sign  of  an  ear  on  any 
of  the  stalks  that  we  could  see.  I  found  out 
the  reason  for  this  when  we  put  up  at  the 
farmer's  house  that  night, — the  first  house  we 


EIGHT   IN  THE   MIDST   OF  IT.  15 

had  stayed  in  since  leaving  Uncle  Ezra's, — 
when  he  tald  us  that  there  had  not  been  a 
drop  of  rain  in  that  part  of  Texas  for  sixteen 
months.  Water  was  beginning  to  get  scarce, 
and  the  worst  of  it  was,  the  grass  on  the 
school-lands,  miles  away  where  all  these  cattle 
were  pastured,  was  burning  up,  and  they 
expected  every  day  to  find  an  army  of  famish- 
ing cattle  coming  down  upon  them. 

"And  that's  something  we  can't  stand," 
said  the  farmer.  "  We  have  only  a  little 
grass  and  water  for  our  own  use,  and  those 
cattle  will  use  up  all  we  have  got.  More  than 
that,  they  will  break  down  our  fences  and 
ruin  our  crops  so  that  we  shan't  have  a  thing 
to  go  on.  That's  one  thing  we  have  to  con- 
tend with  in  Texas — long  droughts." 

That  was  one  thing  I  hadn't  thought  of, 
and  when  we  started  the  next  day  I  took 
particular  notice  of  the  grass  and  water  and 
found  that  they  were  tolerable  scarce,  every 
little  mud  hole  in  which  there  was  water 
being  fenced  in  to  keep  their  stock  away  from 
it.  I  had  never  been  in  that  part  of  Texas 
before,  and  I  found  that  water  was  hard 


16 


THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 


to  get  at,  we  having  to  fill  onr  bottles  to  last 
us  all  day  ;  but  I  supposed  it  was  character- 
istic of  the  country.  Of  course  the  little 
stock  that  the  farmers  had  was  thrifty  and 
fat,  as  well  they  might  be,  for  they  had  water 
enough,  only  not  as  much  as  they  wanted  ; 
but  the  farther  we  went  into  the  country  the 
worse  grew  the  situation.  We  often  had  to 
beg  for  water,  and  it  was  the  first  time  I  ever 
did  such  a  thing  in  my  life. 

At  last  we  got  beyond  the  range  of  the 
farmers,  and  then  we  found  what  suffering  for 
water  meant.  We  were  generally  able  to  find 
a  mud  hole  or  two  in  which  water  had  been, 
and  which  was  not  entirely  dry,  and  by  dig- 
ging down  in  it  would  get  enough  to  quench 
our  thirst,  and  there  we  would  stay  until  the 
next  morning  to  enable  our  horses  to  gain 
strength  enough  to  carry  us  ;  but  there  was  no 
grass  for  them  to  eat.  Everything  was  dried 
up.  Two  nights  we  spent  without  water.  We 
had  enough  in  our  bottles  for  ourselves,  but 
our  poor  horses  were  obliged  to  go  thirsty. 
Elam  I  knew  was  all  right.  He  would  keep 
on  until  I  gave  the  word  to  go  back,  and  if  his 


RIGHT  IN   THE  MIDST  OF    IT.  17 

horse  played  out,  he  would  shoulder  his  pack 
and  go  ahead  on  foot,  but  I  looked  for  a  com- 
plaint from  Tom.  It  is  true  he  looked  pretty 
glum  when  his  horse  came  up  to  him  in  the 
morning  and  said  as  plainly  as  he  could  that 
he  was  thirsty,  and  Tom  could  count  every 
bone  in  his  body,  but  never  a  word  of  protest 
did  I  hear  from  him.  He  would  get  on  and 
ride  as  if  nothing  was  the  matter. 

One  afternoon  we  came  within  sight  of  a 
long  line  of  willows  which  we  knew  lined  a 
stream,  the  first  we  had  seen  for  many  a  day, 
and  near  them  was  a  large  herd  of  cattle 
ranging  about  and  trying  to  find  enough  to 
eat.  A  little  nearer  to  us,  on  a  little  rise  of 
ground,  we  saw  a  horse,  his  rider  having  dis- 
mounted to  give  him  a  chance  to  browse.  He 
saw  us  as  soon  as  we  did  him,  and  shaded  his 
eyes  with  his  hand  and  looked  at  us.  Then 
he  picked  up  his  rifle  and  held  it  in  the  hol- 
low of  his  arm. 

"  What  is  he  going  to  do  ? "  said  Tom.  "  Is 
he  going  to  try  to  keep  us  away  from  that 
water?" 

"  We  will  soon  know,"  I  replied.     "  I  never 


18  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

knew  a  cowboy  to  be  armed  with  a  rifle  before. 
It  proves  that  there  has  been  somebody  here 
after  his  water,  and  he  wants  to  be  prepared 
to  meet  them  at  long  range." 

It  was  four  miles  to  where  he  was,  and  it 
took  us  all  of  an  hour  to  get  up  there.  It 
seemed  as  if  our  horses  couldn't  raise  a  trot  to 
save  their  lives.  As  we  made  no  move  to  raise 
our  weapons,  he  finally  dropped  his  to  the 
ground  and  leaned  upon  it. 

"  How-dy  ! "  said  I,  as  soon  as  we  got  within 
speaking  distance.  That  is  the  term  that 
Western  men  always  use  in  addressing  one 
another.  "I'm  almost  dead  fora  drink,  and 
have  come  here  to  see  if  you  would  give  us 
some." 

"You  are  alone,  I  take  it?"  said  the  cow- 
boy. 

"  We  are  alone,"  said  I. 

"There's  nobody  behind  you  with  a  big 
drove  of  cattle,  is  there?" 

"Nobody  at  all.  We  came  down  here  to 
buy  stock,  but  I  don't  believe  we  want  any 


now." 


"  You  can  have  all  we've  got,"  said  he,  with 


EIGHT   IN   THE   MIDST   OF  IT.  19 

a  smile.  "We'll  sell 'em  to  you  at  a  dollar 
apiece." 

I  looked  around  at  the  walking  skeletons  he 
was  willing  to  dispose  of  at  so  meagre  a  price. 
They  were  too  far  away  for  me  to  see  much 
of  them,  but  still  I  could  tell  that  they  were 
gaunt  and  scraggy  in  the  extreme.  Some  of 
them  were  lying  down  flat  on  their  sides,  with 
their  heads  extended,  and  when  a  steer  gets 
that  way  he  is  in  a  bad  fix. 

"I  had  no  idea  that  your  steers  were  in  such 
shape,"  said  I.  "  Are  some  of  them  dead  1 " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  there's  plenty  of  life  left  in  them 
yet.  You  will  find  plenty  of  water  on  the 
other  side  of  those  willows.  You  see  some 
cattlemen  came  up  here  the  other  day  from 
the  same  direction  you  came  from,  looking  for 
grass  and  water,  and  said  they  were  going  to 
come  in  at  all  hazards  ;  that's  what  made  me 
pick  up  my  rifle  when  I  saw  you." 

"We  aint  seed  no  cattlemen  down  this 
way,"  said  Elam.  "We  aint  seed  anything 
but  farmers." 

We  were  too  thirsty  to  waste  any  more  time 
in  talking,  and  so  we  rode  down  on  the  other 


20  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

side  of  the  willows  to  find  the  "  plenty  of 
water"  the  cowboy  spoke  of.  Well,  there 
was  plenty  of  it,  such  as  it  was,  but  it  was 
scattered  along  the  creek  in  little  holes,  and 
had  been  trampled  in  by  the  cattle  until  it  was 
all  roiled  up  ;  a  filthy  place  to  drink,  but  boys 
and  horses  went  at  it,  and  by  the  time  we  had 
got  all  the  water  we  wanted  there  wasn't  much 
left  in  that  hole.  We  filled  our  bottles,  saw 
our  horses  drink  all  they  needed,  arid  then 
mounted  and  rode  back  to  where  we  had  left 
the  hospitable  cowboy. 

"I  don't  call  that  plenty  of  water,"  said 
Tom,  who  nevertheless  had  been  a  good  deal 
revived  by  the  hearty  swig  he  had  taken.  "  I 
wish  you  had  some  of  the  water  that  was  over- 
flowing the  Mississippi  valley  when  I  left  it. 
It  was  enough  to  flood  this  whole  country." 

"  Well,  pilgrim,  it  is  enough  for  us,  situated 
the  way  we  are  now.  I  have  seen  the  time 
when  that  bayou  down  there  was  booming 
full,  and  you  would  have  to  wait  for  a  week 
before  you  could  cross  it.  I  suppose  you 
would  like  a  roof  to  shelter  you  to-night, 
wouldn't  you?"  said  the  cowboy.  "Well,  if 


RIGHT   IN  THE   MIDST   OF   IT.  21 

you  will  follow  the  creek  up  about  ten  miles,  you 
will  find  the  ranch  of  Mr.  Davenport,  my  boss. 
He  will  give  you  plenty  to  eat  and  a  shake- 
down, but  your  horses  will  fare  hard  for  grass." 

"Thank  you*!  We  would  like  something  a 
little  different  from  the  bacon  and  crackers  we 
have  been  living  upon  so  long,"  said  I.  u  Mr. 
Davenport  isn't  so  hard  up  as  his  cattle?" 

U0h,  bless  you,  he's  got  plenty.  He  got  a 
whole  wagon  load  of  things  last  night." 

Thanking  the  cowboy  again  for  his  kindness 
in  showing  us  the  water,  we  rode  away.  The 
route  we  followed  took  us  directly  through  his 
cattle,  and  I  was  not  much  surprised  when  I 
remembered  what  the  cowboy  had  said  about 
selling  them  for  a  dollar  apiece.  I  never  saw 
such  poverty-stricken  cattle  in  my  life.  Even 
the  bulls  paid  no  sort  of  attention  to  us,  and 
we  told  one  another  that  we  thought  our  trip 
to  Texas  had  not  amounted  to  anything,  and 
that  we  would  have  to  wait  until  the  next 
spring  before  we  could  take  any  cattle  home 
with  us.  While  we  were  talking  the  matter 
over,  Tom  pointed  out  in  the  distance  the 
whitewashed  walls  of  Mr.  Davenport's  ranch. 


CHAPTER  II. 
MR.  DAVENPORT'S  SECRET. 

THE  nearer  we  approached  to  the  ranch 
the  more  like  a  home  place  it  looked  to 
us,  the  only  thing  that  did  not  appear  natural 
being  the  hayracks  that  were  usually  piled 
up  for  the  horses.  These  were  all  gone,  thus 
proving  that  the  ranchman  had  not  been  able 
to  provide  any  more  for  the  benefit  of  his 
steeds  that  were  to  carry  him  and  his  cowboys 
during  all  sorts  of  weather.  Of  course  there 
could  be  no  hay  while  the  grass  that  was  to 
furnish  it  was  all  burned  up.  As  we  drew 
nearer  we  discovered  a  man  and  a  boy  sitting 
on  the  porch.  They  did  not  wait  for  us  to 
speak  to  them,  but  the  boy  got  up  with  his 
face  beaming  all  over  with  smiles,  while  the 
man,  who  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  invalid,  kept 
his  chair. 

"Strangers,  you're  welcome  to  Hardscrab- 
ble,"   said  he.      "Alight  and  hitch.      Your 


MR.  DAVENPORT'S  SECRET.  23 

horses  won' t  go  very  far  away,  and  so  you  can 
turn  them  loose." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  I.  I  was  expected  to 
do  all  the  talking.  uDo  we  address  Mr. 
Davenport? " 

uThat  is  my  name,"  returned  the  invalid. 
uAnd  I  see  you  are  boys,  too.  Bob  will  be 
glad  of  that.  Come  up  here." 

It  did  not  take  us  very  long  to  remove  our 
saddles  and  bridles  from  our  horses  and  carry 
them  up  on  the  porch.  Then  we  shook  hands 
with  Mr.  Davenport  and  his  son  Bob,  and 
took  the  chairs  that  were  promptly  brought 
out  to  us. 

"You  are  very  young  men  to  be  travelling 
around  this  way,"  said  the  invalid.  "  I 
shouldn't  think  that  your  parents  would 
permit  it." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  we  have  any 
parents  to  say  what  we  shall  do.  We  are 
alone  in  the  world,  with  the  exception  of  Tom 
here,  who  has  an  uncle  in  Mississippi.  We 
have  come  a  thousand  miles  to  buy  some 
cattle ;  but  I  don' t  think,  from  what  I  have 
seen  of  your  cattle,  that  we  shall  want  any." 


24  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"Oh,  this  drought  is  simply  awful,"  said 
the  invalid,  rising  up  in  his  chair.  "We 
haven't  had  a  drop  of  rain  for  sixteen  months, 
and  if  it  keeps  on  much  longer  we  shall  all  die 
in  the  poor-house.  The  route  you  came  led 
you  through  a  portion  of  my  herd.  I  want  to 
know  if  you  ever  saw  such  a  sorpy  looking 
lot  of  cattle  as  they  are  ?  " 

This  seemed  to  be  the  opportunity  that  Mr. 
Davenport  was  waiting  for,  and  he  began  and 
told  us  all  about  those  troublous  times  in 
Texas  during  the  past  two  years,  and  he  said 
that  the  drought  and  the  farmers  were  to 
blame  for  it.  There  had  been  a  period  in  the 
history  of  the  State  when  the  stockmen  had 
things  all  their  own  way  ;  when  their  herds 
roamed  over  almost  two  thousand  square 
miles  of  territory,  going  wherever  grass  and 
water  were  most  abundant,  and  attended  by 
only  a  few  Mexican  vaqueros,  whose  principal 
business  it  was  to  see  that  their  employer's 
outfit  did  not  become  mixed  up  with  cattlo 
belonging  to  somebody  else.  But,  of  course, 
this  state  of  affairs  could  not  continue  forever 
in  a  country  like  ours.  The  soil  of  Texas  was 


ME.  DAVENPORT'S  SECRET.  25 

as  well  adapted  to  agriculture  as  it  was  to 
stock  raising,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
people  began  to  find  it  out. 

When  the  tide  of  immigration  begins  set- 
ting toward  any  State  or  Territory,  it  is 
astonishing  how  quickly  it  will  become  filled 
up.  In  a  very  short  time  the  farmers  grew  to 
be  a  power  in  the  cattle  lands  of  Texas.  Of 
course  they  settled  along  the  water  courses,  or 
as  close  to  them  as  they  could  get,  and  when 
they  selected  their  land  they  fenced  it  in  and 
turned  it  up  with  the  plough,  thus  depriving 
the  cattlemen  of  just  so  many  acres  of  past- 
ure, and  in  some  instances  shutting  them  off 
from  the  streams. 

Of  course,  too,  bad  blood  existed  between 
these  two  classes  from  the  very  first.  The 
cattlemen  saw  their  limits  growing  smaller 
day  by  day,  and  they  did  not  take  it  very 
much  to  heart  when  their  half  wild  cattle 
broke  through  the  fences  and  ruined  the  fields 
upon  which  the  farmers  had  expended  so 
much  labor ;  but  they  got  fighting  mad  when 
the  farmers  sued  them  in  the  courts  and  were 
awarded  heavy  damages  for  their  crops. 


26  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

Neighborhood  rows  and  civil  wars  on  a 
small  scale  were  of  common  occurrence,  and 
during  this  particular  summer  the  long  to  be 
remembered  drought  came,  and  I  could  rest 
assured  of  one  thing,  and  that  was,  matters 
were  going  to  be  brought  to  a  climax.  It  was 
surely  coming,  and  the  farmers  would  find 
out  one  thing,  and  that  was,  that  Mr.  Daven- 
port, even  if  he  was  half  dead  from  consump- 
tion, could  shoot  as  well  as  anybody. 

For  long  months  not  a  particle  of  rain  fell 
upon  the  parched  soil,  and  when  the  school- 
lands,  on  which  large  numbers  of  cattle  grazed, 
were  utterly  barren  of  verdure  and  rendered 
worthless  for  years  to  come,  and  all  the  little 
streams  went  dry,  the  ranchmen  saw  ruin 
staring  them  in  the  face.  The  sufferings  of 
the  walking  skeletons,  which  represented 
every  dollar  they  had  in  the  world,  were 
terrible  in  the  extreme,  and  grass  and  water 
must  be  had  at  any  price.  The  nearest  point 
at  which  these  could  be  had  was  on  the  West 
Fork  of  Trinity.  It  was  true  that  the  most, 
if  not  all,  of  the  land  in  that  vicinity  had  been 
turned  into  farms  and  fenced  in,  but  what  did 


MR.  DAVENPORT'S  SECRET.  27 

the  desperate  cattlemen  care  for  that?  Grass 
and  water  were  the  free  gifts  of  Heaven,  and, 
if  necessary,  they  were  ready  to  fight  for  their 
share. 

What  it  was  that  induced  Mr.  Davenport  to 
say  all  this  to  me,  an  entire  stranger,  I  cannot 
imagine,  unless  it  was  because  he  was  so  ex- 
cited by  the  financial  distress  which  he  saw 
hanging  over  him  that  he  must  tell  it  to  some- 
body. Sometimes  during  his  narrative  he 
would  get  up  out  of  his  chair  and  pace  back 
and  forth  on  the  porch  as  if  all  his  old  strength 
had  come  back  to  him.  His  eye  would  kindle, 
until  I  made  up  my  mind  that  if  all  the  ranch- 
men were  like  him  there  would  be  some  shoot- 
ing before  the  summer  was  over.  For  myself 
I  heartily  wished  I  was  safe  back  where  I 
belonged. 

uDo  you  own  this  land  where  you  are 
located?"  I  asked,  feeling  that  I  must  say 
something. 

"  No,  nor  does  anybody  else.  We  are  squat- 
ters. My  neighbors  tell  me  that  there  was  a 
time,  not  so  very  long  ago,  when  this  ranch 
was  located  at  least  a  hundred  miles  to  the 


28  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

east  of  where  it  is  now  ;  but  the  farmers 
kept  coming  in  until  I  am  where  I  am  now. 
You  can't  keep  cattle  where  there  is  land 
fenced  in." 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  you  are  going 
to  drive  your  stock  away  from  here  toward 
Trinity." 

''Because  there  were  a  couple  of  men  here 
from  the  lower  counties,  not  three  weeks  ago, 
to  see  if  I  would  join  in,"  answered  the  invalid. 
"  You  see  my  cattle  would  get  all  mixed  up 
with  others  and  there  is  no  telling  when  we 
would  get  them  apart.  That  will  make  it 
necessary  for  me  to  hire  some  more  men,  and 
as  you  haven't  got  anything  to  do,  why  can't 
you  hire  out  to  me?" 

"  That's  an  idea,"  said  I.  "  I  will  speak  to 
my  companions  about  it  and  see  what  they 
have  to  say.  We  would  rather  not  have  any 
shooting " 

"Oh,  you  will  see  plenty  of  it  if  you  stay 
around  with  us,"  said  Mr.  Davenport.  "The 
minute  we  get  near  Trinity  it  will  commence. 
Why,  there  must  be  as  much  as  one  hundred 
and  seventy-five  thousand  head  of  cattle  that 


MR.  DAVENPORT'S  SECRET.  29 

need  watering.  It's  all  farms  up  that  way 
too." 

"I  was  about  to  say  that  we  would  rather 
not  have  any  shooting  around  where  we  are," 
I  continued.  "  But  if  there  is  going  to  be  any 
we  would  rather  be  where  we  can  have  a  hand 
in  it." 

"  That's  the  trouble,  is  it  1 "  said  Mr.  Daven- 
port, with  a  smile. 

"  Yes,  sir.  And  as  far  as  paying  us  anything 
—why,  we  are  here  with  you  now,  and  if  you 
will  give  us  board  it  is  all  we  ask." 

I  looked  at  Tom  and  he  nodded  his  head.  I 
glanced  around  for  Elam,  but  he  and  Bob  had 
disappeared.  They  had  got  into  conversation 
and  had  gone  off  to  look  at  something. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Davenport. 
"That  boy  has  been  confined  here  on  the 
ranch  and  he  has  not  seen  a  companion 
before.  I  have  been  afraid  to  let  him  out 
of  my  sight.  By  the  way,  this  man  whom 
you  have  just  introduced  to  me  is  all 
right?" 

"Who?  Elam?  Oh,  yes !  You  can  trust 
him  anywhere." 


30  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

"I  mean  he  wouldn't  let  harm  come  to  Bob 
without  making  a  fuss  about  it." 

"No,  sir,"  said  I,  rather  astonished  at  the 
proposition.  UI  don't  see  that  any  harm  can 
come  to  him  out  here." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Daven- 
port, with  a  heavy  sigh,  which  told  how  heavily 
the  matter  bore  on  his  mind,  "I  don't  know." 

Not  to  dwell  too  long  on  incidents  that  are 
not  connected  with  this  story,  I  will  simply  say 
that  we  were  presented  to  two  of  the  cowboys 
that  night  at  supper  time  as  the  fellows  Mr. 
Davenport  had  employed  to  help  him  drive 
his  cattle  north,  our  duties  to  begin  on  the  day 
the  march  commenced.  I  took  a  great  notion 
to  the  two  men — tall,  rawboned,  and  rough, 
and  the  simple  and  earnest  manner  in  which 
they  agreed  with  their  employer  on  all  ques- 
tions concerning  the  conduct  of  the  farmers,  in 
keeping  his  cattle  out  on  the  barren  prairie 
where  there  was  neither  water  nor  grass  to 
be  had,  made  me  think  that  their  hearts  were 
in  the  matter. 

During  the  next  week  I  noticed  that  Bob 
and  Elam  went  off  somewhere  immediately 


MB.  DAVENPORT'S  SECRET.  31 

after  breakfast  and  did  not  get  back  before 
night.  That  was  all  right  to  me,  but  I  wanted 
to  make  sure  that  Elam  knew  what  he  was 
doing,  so  one  day  when  I  got  a  chance  to 
speak  to  him  in  private  I  said  : 

"  What  do  you  and  Bob  do  when  you  are 
gone  all  day  ?" 

"Sho!"  said  Elam,  with  a  laugh.  "He 
just  makes  me  lay  under  the  trees  and  tell 
him  storie's." 

"  You  are  sure  no  harm  comes  to  him  ? " 

"Harm?  What  is  going  to  harm  him  out 
here?" 

"  I  don't  know  and  his  father  doesn't  know; 
but  if  you  are  wise  you  will  keep  your  eyes 
open." 

"Harm!  "repeated  Elam.  "Well;  I  should 
like  to  see  somebody  harm  him.  He's  got  a 
good  heart,  that  boy  has."  Be  they  going  to 
shoot  him?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  are  going  to  do,  I 
tell  you.  If  his  father  ever  tells  me  I  will 
tell  you." 

During  all  this  time  Mr.  Davenport  kept 
Tom  and  me  close  to  himself.  It  was  a  com- 


32  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

panionship  that  was  entirely  new  to  him  in 
that  country,  and  he  wanted  to  make  the 
most  of  it.  Before  I  had  been  acquainted 
with  him  twenty-four  hours  I  could  see  that 
he  was  different  from  most  men  who  made 
stock  raising  a  business,  that  for  years  he 
had  been  out  there  where  he  had  nobody  to 
talk  to,  and  I  was  sure  he  had  some  secret  to 
tell  us.  One  day  it  all  came  out,  as  I  knew  it 
would,  if  we  let  the  matter  alone  and  did  not 
trouble  him  with  it.  It  was  a  hot  day  during 
the  first  of  August  and  we  were  sitting  there 
on  the  porch,  trying  to  raise  a  little  breeze  by 
fanning  ourselves  with  our  hats.  It  was  after 
dinner,  and  the  Mexican  cook  had  gone  some- 
where to  sleep  and  we  were  there  alone. 

"I  haven't  always  been  what  you  see  me 
now,"  said  Mr.  Davenport,  settling  back  in 
his  chair  as  if  he  had  resolved  upon  his 
course.  "I  have  a  secret  which  I  want  to  tell 
Bob,  but  I  don't  know  how  to  go  about  it.  It 
isn't  anything  of  which  I  am  ashamed, — many 
men  have  done  the  same  before  me, — but  some- 
how I  have  let  it  go  so  long  that  it  has  become 
a  task  to  me.  I  want  to  ask  your  advice 


MR.  DAVENPORT'S  SECRET.  33 

about  it.  You  are  comparative  strangers  to 
me,  but  somehow  I  have  taken  to  you  and 
want  to  trust  you.  I  haven't  had  anyone 
around  me  to  whom  I  was  willing  to  confide 
it,  and  now  I  know  that  I  am  not  long  for  this 
world  I  want  to  see  Bob  have  his  rights." 

With  these  words  the  invalid  began  his 
story.  It  was  short,  but  we  could  both  see 
how  great  an  effort  it  cost  him. 

Mr.  Davenport  was  an  old  "forty-niner." 
He  spent  a  few  successful  years  in  the  gold 
mines  and  then  returned  to  the  States,  and 
established  himself  as  a  wholesale  merchant  in 
St.  Louis,  his  native  city,  and  soon  became 
known  as  one  of  its  most  enterprising  busi- 
ness men.  The  only  relatives  he  had  in  the 
world,  except  his  son  Bob, — who  was  not  his 
son  in  reality, — were  an  unmarried  uncle,  who 
went  to  Texas  and  became  a  ranchman,  and  a 
half  brother,  who  was  not  a  relative  to  be 
proud  of.  Too  lazy  to  work,  this  half  brother, 
whose  name  was  Clifford  Henderson,  gained  a 
precarious  living  by  his  wits.  He  gambled 
when  he  could  raise  a  stake,  and  borrowed 
of  his  brother  when  he  couldn't.  He  was 
3 


34  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

more  familiar  with  the  police  court  than  he 
was  with  the  interior  of  a  church,  and  when 
his  generous  brother's  patience  was  all  ex- 
hausted and  he  positively  refused  to  pay 
any  more  of  his  debts,  he  left  that  brother's 
presence  with  a  threat  of  vengeance  on  his 
lips. 

UI  will  get  even  with  you  for  this,"  said  he. 
"  Bob  is  not  your  son,  and  I  will  see  that  you 
don't  adopt  him,  either.  Whenever  I  see  a 
notice  of  your  death, — and  you  can't  live  for- 
ever,— I  will  hunt  that  boy  up  and  make  him 
know  what  it  is  to  be  in  want,  as  I  am  at  this 
moment." 

The  fact  that  Bob  was  riot  his  son  ought  not 
to  have  weighed  so  heavily  with  the  invalid  as 
it  did,  but  still  he  could  not  bear  to  enlighten 
him.  He  was  the  son  of  a  friend  in  the  gold 
mines,  who,  dying  there,  left  Bob  alone,  and 
Mr.  Davenport  took  him  up.  He  christened 
him  Davenport,  and  the  boy  always  answered 
to  his  name.  There  never  had  been  any  doubt 
in  his  mind  that  Bob  would  some  day  come  in 
for  all  his  money,  until  this  Clifford  Hender- 
son began  his  threatenings  ;  and  even  after  that 


MR.  DAVENPORT'S  SECRET.  35 

Mr.  Davenport  did  not  wake  up  and  attend  to 
things  as  he  ought. 

In  process  of  time  Mr.  Davenport's  unmar- 
ried uncle  died,  and  in  his  will  he  made  him 
executor  arid  heir  to  all  the  property  he  had 
accumulated  in  Texas.  In  the  hope  that  a 
change  in  the  climate  might  prove  beneficial 
to  his  health,  as  well  as  to  leave  that  miser- 
able Clifford  Henderson  and  all  his  threaten- 
ings  behind,  Mr.  Davenport  moved  to  Texas 
and  took  possession  of  his  legacy,  bringing 
Bob  with  him.  In  fact,  the  two  did  not  act 
like  father  and  son,  but  like  two  brothers  who 
could  not  bear  to  be  separated.  All  they 
found  when  they  reached  Texas  was  a  rather 
dilapidated  old  house,  which  was  very  plainly 
furnished,  and  presided  over  by  a  half-breed 
Mexican  cook,  who  was  so  cross  and  surly  that 
one  could  hardly  get  a  civil  word  out  of  him. 
The  rest  of  the  help—there  were  four  of  them 
in  all— were  cowboys.  They  spent  the  most 
of  their  lives  on  the  open  prairie,  looking  out 
for  the  safety  of  Mr.  Davenport's  cattle. 

"  I  have  got  everything — 

Mr.    Davenport   suddenly  paused   and  put 


36  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

back  into  his  coat  the  large  pocket-book 
which  he  had  been  in  the  act  of  showing  to 
us.  Then  he  got  upon  his  feet  and  carefully 
closed  the  door  leading  into  the  cabin,  and 
walked  cautiously  to  one  end  of  the  porch 
and  looked  around  the  house,  then  to  the 
other  end,  but  came  back  without  seeing 
anybody. 

"  One  has  to  be  careful,"  said  he,  in  ex- 
planation. "  I  am  as  afraid  of  my  help  as  of 
anything  else." 

"Of  your  help!"  I  exclaimed.  "If  there 
is  anybody  here  that  you  are  afraid  of,  why 
don't  you  discharge  him  ?  " 

"Because  I  want  to  see  what  he  is  here 
for,"  said  the  invalid.  "  He  works  for  noth- 
ing at  all,  but  yet  he  always  seems  to 
have  plenty  of  money.  You  know  'Rastus 
Johnson?" 

Yes,  we  did  know  him,  and  he  was  one  of 
the  few  people  about  the  ranch  to  whom  I  had 
taken  a  violent  dislike.  He  was  just  the  man 
to  excite  the  contempt  of  a  Texan,  because  he 
couldn't  ride ;  but  when  he  came  to  Mr. 
Davenport's  ranch  six  months  ago,  and  told  a 


ME.  DAVENPORT'S  SECRET.  37 

pitiful  story  about  the  luck  that  had  befallen 
him  in  the  mines,  he  was  given  odd  jobs  to  do 
about  the  ranch  for  his  board.  .There  were 
two  things  that  struck  Mr.  Davenport  as 
peculiar,  or  we  might  say  three,  and  tempted 
by  something,  he  knew  not  what,  he  kept  the 
man  around  the  house  as  much  as  possible 
and  watched  his  movements.  One  was  the 
care  he  took  of  his  six-shooters.  He  had  a 
splendid  pair,  and  when  engaged  in  no  other 
occupation,  he  was  always  rubbing  them  up 
until  they  shone  like  silver.  The  other  was 
his  story  about  the  mines.  He  did  not  know 
that  Mr.  Davenport  was  an  old  -  forty-niner, 
and  he  thought  he  could  say  what  he  pleased 
to  him  and  he  would  believe  it.  The  nearest 
mines  that  Mr.  Davenport  knew  anything 
of  were  those  located  about  Denver,  the 
very  place  we  had  come  from ;  and  the  idea 
that  anyone  could  walk  a  thousand  miles, 
right  through  a  country  settled  up  by  cattle- 
men and  farmers,  and  be  as  poor  as  he  was 
when  he  struck  Mr.  Davenport's  ranch,  was 
ridiculous.  But  Mr.  Davenport  kept  this  to 
himself.  He  had  Clifford  Henderson  in  mind, 


38  THE   MISSING    POCKET-BOOK. 

and  lie  resolved  if  'Rastus  attempted  any- 
thing out  of  the  way  he  would  expose  him  on 
the  spot. 

As  'Rastus  grew  more  and  more  at  home 
about  the  ranch,  other  qualities  developed 
themselves.  He  took  to  "  snooping"  around 
the  house  to  see  what  he  could  find  there,  and 
once,  when  Mr.  Davenport  entered  the  ranch 
suddenly,  he  was  certain  that  he  saw  'Rastus 
engaged  in  trying  to  pick  the  lock  of  his 
desk  ;  but  'Rastus  began  tumbling  up  his 
bed,  and  turned  upon  his  employer  with  such 
a  hearty  good-morning  that  the  invalid  was 
inclined  to  believe  he  was  mistaken. 

"Yes,"  said  I,  in  response  to  Mr.  Daven- 
port's question  ;  "I  believe  we  know  some- 
thing about  'Rastus.  Some  of  the  cowboys 
have  told  us  a  good  deal  about  him.  Is  he 
the  one  you  are  afraid  of  ?  " 

"  I've  got  the  whole  thing  right  here,"  said 
Mr.  Davenport,  seating  himself  in  his  chair 
and  drawing  a  big  fat  pocket-book  from  his 
inside  pocket.  "  It  contains  my  will,  and  also 
instructions  in  regard  to  what  I  want  Bob  to 
do  with  the  rest  of  our  herd  in  case  any 


39 

escape  the  effects  of  the  drought.  It  also  con- 
tains a  full  history  of  the  manner  in  which  he 
came  to  me,  and  hints  regarding  those  threats 
of  Henderson — whom  I  sincerely  trust  he  may 
never  see  again.  In  short,  nothing  that  I 
could  think  of  has  been  omitted." 

"You  don't  think  that  Henderson  would 
follow  you  down  here,  do  you?"  said  Tom. 

"My  dear  boy,  you  don't  know  anything 
about  that  man  if  you  think  he  wouldn't 
follow  me  to  Europe,"  said  Mr.  Davenport 
sadly.  "If  he  is  alive,  Bob  will  hear  from 
him  ;  and  that  he  is  still  alive  I  am  forced  to 
believe  from  the  actions  of  this  man  Johnson. 
I  don' t  expect  to  come  back  here,  and  I  want 
you  two  boys  to  swear  to  what  I  have  told 
you.  You  will,  won't  you?" 

Of  course  Tom  and  I  agreed  to  it,  and  then 
we  wondered  what  sort  of  a  man  Clifford  Hen- 
derson could  be  to  scare  his  half  brother  so 
badly  as  that. 


CHAPTER    III. 
'RASTUS  JOHNSON. 

HAYING  no  wish  to  pry  into  Mr.  Daven- 
port's affairs  any  further  than  he  was 
willing  to  reveal  them  to  us,  we  did  not  ques- 
tion the  invalid,  although  there  were  some 
points  in  his  story  that  I  should  have  liked  to 
have  cleared  up.  He  seemed  to  know  that '  Ras- 
tus  Johnson  was  employed  by  Clifford  Hen- 
derson, and  I  wanted  to  know  what  reason  he 
had  for  thinking  so ;  but  he  was  sadly  used 
up  by  his  talking,  and  settled  back  in  his 
chair  in  a  state  of  complete  exhaustion.  It 
was  this  state  that  troubled  me.  I  began  to 
think  that  when  his  time  came  to  go  he  would 
go  suddenly. 

Presently  Bob  came  up  accompanied  by 
Elam.  I  strolled  off  to  find  'Rastus  Johnson. 
You  see  I  was  as  much  interested  in  that 
pocket-book  Mr.  Davenport  carried  in  his 
coat  as  I  was  in  anything  else.  'Rastus  John- 

40 


'RASTUS  JOHNSON.  41 

son  must  have  known  that  he  carried  it  there, 
and  if  anything  should  happen  while  the 
invalid  was  alone  the  pocket-book  would  be 
found  missing ;  and  without  a  will  where 
would  Bob  be?  Henderson  could  claim  his 
property  as  next  of  kin,  and  Bob  would  be  left 
out  in  the  cold.  I  knew  that  Tom  understood 
all  this  as  well  as  I  did.  At  any  rate  I  would 
speak  to  him  about  it  the  very  first  chance 
I  had,  and  arrange  it  with  him  so  as  to 
keep  Mr.  Davenport  under  guard  the  whole 
time. 

It  did  not  take  me  long  to  find  'Rastus 
Johnson.  The  ranch  stood  on  the  edge  of  a 
little  grove,  and  there,  under  one  of  the  trees, 
I  found  the  man  of  whom  I  was  in  search. 
His  hat  was  pulled  over  his  eyes,  as  if  he 
were  fast  asleep,  and  the  belt  containing  his 
revolvers  lay  near  him  on  the  ground.  Evi- 
dently they  had  just  received  an  extra  rub- 
bing. He  started  up  as  he  heard  my  footsteps 
and  pulled  the  hat  off  his  face. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?"  said  he,  with  a  long- 
drawn  yawn.  "How-dy.  What  does  the  old 
man  have  to  say  to  you?  He  says  more  to 


42  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

you  than  he  has  to  me,  and  I've  been  on  this 
ranch  for  three  months." 

"  Yes,  he  has  had  a  good  deal  to  say  to  Tom 
and  me.  He  has  been  telling  us  about  the 
threats  of  Clifford  Henderson.  Seen  anything 
of  him  lately?"  I  asked,  as  if  I  didn't  care 
whether  or  not  he  answered  my  question. 

I  asked  this  abruptly,  as  I  meant  to  do,  and 
the  answer  I  got  set  all  my  doubts  at  rest. 
The  man  was  in  the  employ  of  Henderson — 
that  was  a  fact ;  and  while  he  used  his  own 
time  in  getting  his  wits  about  him,  I  busied 
myself  in  giving  him  a  goofl  looking  over. 
He  was  a  giant  in  strength  and  stature,  long 
haired  and  full  bearded,  and  when  he  sat  up 
and  looked  at  me,  I  knew  I  was  looking  into 
the  eyes  of  a  desperado  of  the  worst  sort. 
His  clothes  were  not  in  keeping  with  the  story 
of  poverty  he  had  told  when  he  first  came 
to  Mr.  Davenport's  ranch.  They  were  whole 
and  clean,  and  his  high- top  boots  looked  as 
though  they  had  just  come  from  the  bands  of 
the  maker.  There  was  something  about  the 
man  that  made  me  think  he  was  wanted  some- 
where else — that  there  was  a  rope  in  keeping 


'RASTUS  JOHNSON.  43 

for  him,  if  the  parties  who  held  it  only  knew 
where  to  find  him.  He  looked  at  me  for  fully 
a  minute  without  speaking,  then  rested  his 
elbows  on  his  knees  and  looked  down  at  the 
ground. 

" I  don't  know  the  man,"  said  he,  and  he 
spoke  so  that  anybody  could  have  told  that 
he  was  angry. 

"There  is  no  need  of  getting  huffy  about 
it,"  said  I  carelessly.  "Where  is  he  now?" 

"I  tell  you  I  am  not  acquainted  with  the 
man,"  said  he.  "  Henderson  !  I  never  heard 
the  name  before." 

"No  offence,  I  hope;  but  I  thought  from 
the  way  you  acted  that  you  were  in  his 
employ.  Be  honest  now,  and  tell  me  when 
you  have  seen  him  lately." 

"  How  have  I  acted  ? "  enquired  the  man. 

"  Oh,  snooping  around  the  ranch  and  trying 
to  find  out  things  that  are  not  intended  for 
you  to  know,"  I  answered  carelessly.  "You 
know  you  have  been  doing  that  ever  since  you 
have  been  here,  and  Mr.  Davenport  is  sorry 
that  he  ever  consented  to  let  you  remain." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  what  I  have  done  ? " 


44  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

"  There  is  but  one  thing  he  could  put  his 
finger  upon,  and  that  was  when  you  tried  to 
pick  the  lock  of  his  desk." 

"I  never '  began  Johnson. 

"If  you  had  got  into  it  you  wouldn't  have 
made  anything  by  it.  The  man's  papers  are 
safe." 

"I  know  he  carries  them  on  his  person,  and 
he's  got  a  little  revolver  handy,  bless  the 
luck.  There  now.  I  have  let  the  cat  out  of  the 
bag!  There's  no  one  around  who  can  hear 
what  we  say,  is  there  ?  Sit  down." 

I  tell  you  things  were  going  a  great  deal 
further  than  I  meant  to  have  them.  I  had 
come  out  there  on  purpose  to  induce  Johnson 
to  drop  a  hint  whether  or  not  he  was  in  Clif- 
ford Henderson's  employ,  but  I  had  succeeded 
almost  too  well.  It  looked  as  though  the  man 
was  going  to  take  me  info  his  confidence.  It 
was  a  dangerous  piece  of  business,  too,  for  I 
knew  if  I  did  anything  out  of  the  way,  I 
would  be  the  mark  for  the  bullets  in  one  of 
Johnson's  shining  revolvers. 

"I  don't  see  why  I  should  sit  down,"  I 
replied. 


'RASTUS  JOHNSON.  45 

"  Sit  down  a  minute  ;  I  want  to  talk  to  you. 
You  have  had  bad  luck  with  your  cattle," 
said  the  man,  as  I  picked  out  a  comfortable 
place  to  seat  myself.  "  You  once  possessed  a 
large  drove,  but  they  were  taken  away  from 
you  at  one  pop." 

"That's  so,"  I  said.  "If  I  could  find  the 
men  who  did  it,  I  wouldn't  ask  the  law  to 
take  any  stock  in  them.  I  would  take  it  into 
my  own  hands." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  anything  about 
that,"  said  the  man.  "I  wasn't  there, 
although,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  have  been  in 
at  the  bouncing  of  more  than  one  herd  of 
cattle  that  was  all  ready  to  drive  to  market." 

"  What  got  you  in  this  business,  any- 
way?" I  asked  suddenly. 

"What  business?" 

"Oh,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do.  A  man  of 
your  education  can  make  a  living  a  great  deal 
easier  than  you  do." 

"Look  a-here,  young  fellow,  I  did  not 
agree  to  make  a  confidant  of  you  in  every- 
thing. Perhaps  I  will  do  that  after  a  while. 
What  I  want  to  get  at  now  is  this:  Are  you 


46  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

willing  to  work  with  me  to  have  this  property 
go  where  it  belongs?" 

"  Where  does  it  belong  ? " 

"You  mentioned  the  name  of  the  man  not 
two  minutes  ago— Clifford  Henderson." 

"Aha!  You  do  know  that  man,  don't 
you?" 

"  Yes  ;  and  now  you  know  my  secret,  for  I 
have  got  a  secret  as  well  as  the  old  man,"  said 
Johnson  ;  and  as  he  spoke  he  reached  out  and 
pulled  his  six-shooters  within  easy  handling 
distance,  turning  the  butt  of  one  up,  so  that 
he  could  catch  it  at  a  moment's  warning. 

Now,  I  suppose  some  of  my  readers  will 
think  I  was  in  no  danger  about  that  time,  but 
I  knew  I  was.  My  life  hung  upon  the  words  I 
uttered  during  the  next  few  minutes.  If  I  had 
refused  I  would  never  have  known  what  hurt 
me.  Johnson  would  have  shot  me  down  and 
then  reported  to  Mr.  Davenport  that  I  had  in- 
sulted him  ;  and  as  there  was  no  one  present 
to  overhear  our  conversation,  that  would  have 
been  the  last  of  it.  Law  was  not  ns  potent 
then  as  it  is  in  Texas  in  our  day,  and  John- 
son's unsupported  word  would  have  been 


'KASTUS  JOHNSON.  47 

taken,  there  being  no  evidence  to  the  contrary. 
I  tell  you  I  was  in  something  of  a  fix. 

"  How  does  it  come  that  Henderson  has  so 
much  interest  in  this  property  ? "  I  enquired. 

"  Why,  Bob  is  no  relative  of  Davenport's  at 
all.  He  picked  him  up  in  the  gold  mines,— 
where  his  father  died  and  left  him, — named 
him  Davenport,  and  the  boy  has  been  brought 
up  to  believe  that  he  has  an  interest  in  all  his 
stocks  and  bonds.  I  wish  I  had  known  a  little 
more  about  that  when  I  came  here.  I  told  the 
old  man  some  funny  stories  about  my  being  in 
the  gold  mines,"  he  added,  with  a  laugh. 

"  And  Henderson  doesn't  want  him  to  have 
it.  It  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be  the  part 
of  policy  for  Henderson  to  come  here  and  live 
with  Mr.  Davenport." 

"Oh,  that  wouldn't  do  at  all!"  exclaimed 
the  man  hastily.  "  He  used  to  live  with  him 
in  St.  Louis,  but  they  had  an  awful  row  when 
they  separated,  and  he  is  afraid  the  old  man 
will  go  to  work  to  adopt  the  boy.  I  tell  you 
he  don't  want  him  to  do  that !  " 

"  It  seems  very  strange  that  Mr.  Davenport 
hasn't  adopted  him  before  this  time." 


48  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"  I  lay  it  to  his  illness  as  much  as  anything. 
Like  all  persons  who  are  troubled  with  an 
incurable  disease,  he  thinks  something  will 
happen  to  take  him  off  the  minute  he  adopts 
Bob,  and  I  tell  you  it's  a  lucky  thing  for  us. 
Well,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  don't  propose  to  go  into  this  thing  until 
I  know  how  much  there  is  to  be  made  out  of 
it,"  I  answered,  as  if  I  had  half  a  mind  to  go 
into  it.  "  How  much  are  you  going  to  get  ?" 

"  I  am  not  going  to  take  my  pay  in  half- 
starved  cattle,  I  tell  you,"  said  Johnson 
emphatically.  "  The  old  man  has  a  few  thou- 
sand dollars  in  bonds  in  some  bank  or  an- 
other,— I  don't  know  which  one  it  is, — and 
when  I  get  that  pocket-book  in  my  hands  I 
shall  get  some  of  those  bonds.  I  won't  let  it 
go  without  it.  He  ought  to  give  you  as  much 
as  he  gives  me." 

"  How  much  are  you  going  to  get  ?"  I  said 
again. 

"  Twenty  thousand  dollars;  and  what  I 
want  more  than  anything  else  is  that  pocket- 
book.  He  has  got  his  will  in  there,  and  I  must 
have  that  before  anything  is  done.  Now,  if 


'RASTUS  JOHNSON.  49 

you  can  steal  that  pocket-book  and  give  it  to 
me,  I'll  see  that  you  are  well  paid  for  your 
trouble.  If  Henderson  gives  you  five  thou- 
sand dollars  it  would  go  a  long  way  toward 
straightening  up  your  cattle  business." 

"  Well,  I  want  some  time  to  think  about  it. 
It  is  a  pretty  dangerous  piece  of  work." 

"  Take  your  own  time.  We  shall  not  go  off 
until  next  week.  You  won't  say  anything  to 
Bob  or  the  old  man  about  it  ? " 

"  Never  a  word,"  I  replied,  hoping  that  he 
wouldn't  ask  me  to  keep  still  where  Tom  and 
Elam  were  concerned.  I  couldn't  possibly  get 
along  without  taking  them  into  my  confi- 
dence, for  although  it  was  new  business  to 
them,  I  felt  the  want  of  a  little  good  advice. 

"  Because  if  you  do— if  I  see  you  riding  off 
alone  with  either  one  of  those  fellows  I  shall 
know  what  you  are  up  to,  and  then  good-by 
to  all  your  chance  of  getting  any  money." 

"  You  need  have  no  fear,"  said  I,  getting 
upon  my  feet.  "I  shall  not  say  a  word  to 
either  one  of  them." 

I  walked  slowly  toward  the  ranch,  feeling 
as  if  I  had  signed  my  own  death  warrant. 
4 


50  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

There  was  no  bluster  about  Johnson,  he 
wasn't  that  sort ;  but  I  knew  that  I  not  only 
would  lose  all  chances  of  getting  any  money 
by  going  off  riding  with  Mr.  Davenport  or 
Bob,  but  I  would  lose  my  chance  of  life.  I 
would  be  shot  down  at  once  the  first  time  I  was 
caught  alone,  and,  with  all  my  practice  at 
revolver  drawing, — that  is,  pulling  it  at  a 
moment's  warning, — I  would  not  stand  any 
show  at  all.  These  Texans  are  a  little  bit 
quicker  than  cats  when  it  comes  to  drawing 
anything. 

"  Of  all  the  impudence  and  scandalous 
things  that  I  ever  heard  of,  that  'Rastus 
Johnson  is  the  beat,"  I  soliloquized  as  I 
walked  toward  the  house,  wondering  what  I 
should  do  when  I  got  there.  "A  man  comes 
out  to  steal  a  will  from  another  man  and 
pitches  upon  me,  an  entire  stranger,  because  I 
have  had  ill  luck  with  my  cattle.  Of  course  I 
have  no  intention  of  doing  anything  of  the 
kind,  but  if  something  should  happen  to 
get  this  fellow  into  serious  trouble—  By 
gracious !  if  this  man  was  lynched  he  could 
take  me  with  him." 


'EASTUS  JOHNSON.  51 

When  I  reached  the  ranch  and  mounted  the 
steps  that  led  to  the  porch  I  found  Tom  and 
Elam  sitting  there  alone.  Mr.  Davenport  had 
talked  himself  into  a  state  of  complete  ex- 
haustion and  had  gone  in  to  take  a  nap,  tak- 
ing Bob  with  him  as  guard.  In  order  to 
secure  the  quietness  he  wanted  they  had 
closed  the  door  after  them.  I  felt  that  now 
was  my  only  chance.  I  saw  by  the  look  of 
surprise  on  Elam's  face  that  Tom  had  been 
hurriedly  whispering  to  him  what  Mr.  Daven- 
port had  told  us. 

u  Where  have  you  been  !  'T  enquired  Tom. 
"  We  have  been  waiting  half  an  hour  for  you." 

"Is  it  a  fact  that  this  Johnson  has  been 
working  for  Clifford  Henderson  ?"  exclaimed 
Elam.  "  If  I  was  in  Davenport's  place  I 
would  drive  him  off  the  ranch." 

"  Sh—  !  Don't  talk  so  loud,"  I  admonished 
him.  "I've  been  gone  half  an  hour,  and  dur- 
ing that  time  I  have  heard  some  things  that 
will  astonish  you.  I  have  learned  that  John- 
son is  in  Henderson's  employ,  and  that  he 
wants  me  to  act  as  his  accomplice." 

I  uttered  these  words  in  a  whisper,  thinking 


52  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

of  the  listening  ones  there  might  be  on  the 
other  side  of  that  door,  and  when  I  got 
through  I  tiptoed  first  to  one  end  of  the  porch 
and  then  to  the  other  to  keep  a  lookout  for 
Johnson.  I  was  afraid  of  the  "  snooping" 
qualities  that  the  fellow  had  developed,  and  if 
he  had  suddenly  come  around  the  corner  of  the 
house  and  caught  me  in  the  act  of  whispering 
to  my  friends  I  would  not  have  been  at  all 
surprised  at  it.  Tom  and  Elam  were  both 
amazed  at  what  I  had  told  them,  and  looked 
at  one  another  with  a  blank  expression  on 
their  faces. 

"Tom,  he  wants  me  to  steal  that  pocket- 
book  Mr.  Davenport  showed  us  to-day,"  I  con- 
tinued. "He  says  the  will  is  in  there  and  he 
can't  do  anything  without  it.  He  says  the 
property  rightfully  belongs  to  Henderson." 

"If  I  were  in  your  place  I  would  go  right 
straight  to  Mr.  Davenport  with  it,"  said  Tom, 
speaking  in  a  whisper  this  time. 

"And  be  shot  for  your  trouble,"  chimed  in 
Elam,  waking  up  to  the  emergencies  of  the 
case. 

"That's    the    idea,    exactly,"    I    went    on. 


'RASTUS  JOHNSON.  53 

"He  would  shoot  me  down  as  soon  as  he 
would  look  at  me,  and  then  report  to  Mr. 
Davenport  that  I  had  insulted  him ;  then 
what  could  anybody  do  about  it  ?  You  fel- 
lows would  have  to  shoot  him,  and  that  would 
end  the  matter.  I  promised  I  wouldn't  say 
anything  to  Bob  or  his  father  about  it,  but  I 
had  a  mental  reservation  in  my  mind  when  it 
came  to  you.  Now  I  want  to  know  what  I 
shall  do  about  it." 

"  Tell  us  the  whole  thing,  and  then  perhaps 
we  can  pass  judgment  upon  it,"  whispered 
Tom.  "I  don't  know  that  I  understand 
you." 

With  that  I  began,  and  gave  the  boys  a  full 
history  of  my  short  interview  with  Johnson. 
It  didn'  t  take  long,  for  I  did  not  hold  a  very 
long  conversation  with  'Rastus;  and  when  I 
came  to  tell  how  readily  he  had  included  me 
in  his  plans  I  saw  Elam  wink  and  nod  his  head 
in  a  very  peculiar  manner.  Then  I  knew  that 
I  had  hit  the  nail  squarely  on  the  head  when 
I  made  up  my  mind  what  '  Rastus  would  do  to 
me  if  things  didn't  work  as  he  thought  they 
ought  to.  I  tiptoed  to  the  end  of  the  porch 


54  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

to  see  if  I  could  discover  any  signs  of  Mm, 
and  then  I  came  back. 

"You  see  he  knows  that  I  have  had  bad 
luck  with  my  cattle,  and  he  takes  it  for 
granted  that  I  am  down  on  everybody  who 
has  been  fortunate  with  theirs,"  I  said,  in 
conclusion.  "He  thinks  I  want  to  steal 
enough  to  make  up  for  my  lost  herd." 

"  The  idea  is  ridiculous,"  said  Tom.  "  How 
in  the  world  does  he  suppose  Mr.  Davenport 
had  anything  to  do  with  your  loss?" 

"That  aint  neither  here  nor  there,"  said 
Elam.  "That  feller  has  stolen  more  than 
one  herd  of  cattle,  an'  I'll  bet  on  it.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  he  was  one  of  them  des- 
perate fellows — what  do  you  call  them— 

"Desperadoes,"  suggested  Tom. 

"  I  know  he  is,"  said  I.  "  And  he  is  a  man 
of  education.  He  doesn'  t  talk  as  the  Texans 
do  at  all,  and  I  told  him  that  a  person  of  his 
learning  could  make  a  living  easier  than 
he  did." 

"  What  did  he  say  to  that  ?  " 

"He  said  he  didn't  agree  to  make  a  confi- 
dant of  me  in  everything.  He  might  do  it 


'EASTUS  JOHNSON.  55 

after  a  while.  He  acknowledged  that  he  had 
been  in  at  the  stealing  of  more  than  one  herd 
that  was  all  ready  to  be  driven  to  market. 
Now,  fellows,  what  shall  I  do  about  it?" 

This  was  too  much  for  Tom,  who  settled 
back  in  his  chair  and  looked  at  Elam.  Our 
backwoods  friend  arose  to  the  emergency,  and 
I  considered  his  advice  as  good  as  any  that 
could  be  given. 

"  You  can't  do  nothing  about  it,"  he  said, 
after  rubbing  his  chin  thoughtfully  for  a  few 
minutes.  "  Let  him  go  his  way,  an'  you  go 
yours." 

"Yes;  and  then  see  what  will  happen  to 
me  if  I  don't  do  as  he  says.  Suppose  he 
thinks  I  have  had  time  to  steal  that  pocket- 
book  ?  If  I  don' t  give  it  over  to  him,  then 
what?" 

"Tell  him  that  Mr.  Davenport  keeps  a 
guard  over  it  all  the  while,"  said  Elam, 
"an'  that  you  can  get  no  chance.  Heav- 
ings  an'  'arth  !  I  only  wish  I  was  in  your 
boots." 

"I  wish  to  goodness  you  were,"  said  I. 
"What  would  you  do?" 


66  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"I'd  let  him  go  his  way,  an'  I'd  go  mine. 
That's  all  I  should  do." 

"I. guess  that's  the  best  I  could  do  under 
the  circumstances,"  said  I,  after  thinking  the 
matter  over.  "By  the  way,  I  think  it  is 
about  time  you  two  went  out  on  your  ride. 
I  am  of  the  opinion  that  it  will  be  safer  so. 
Leave  me  here  alone,  so  that  when  Johnson 
comes  up—  I  do  not  believe  his  name  is 
Johnson  ;  do  you?  " 

u'Tain't  nary  one  of  his  names,  that  name 
aint,"  said  Elam  emphatically.  "His  name 
is  Coyote  Bill." 

"How  do  you  know?"  Tom  and  I  man- 
aged to  ask  in  concert. 

"I  aint  never  seen  the  man;  I  aint  done 
nothing  but  hear  about  him  since  I  have  been 
here,  but  I  know  he  is  Coyote  Bill,"  replied 
Elam  doggedly.  "At  any  rate  that's  the  way 
I  should  act  if  I  was  him." 

Coyote  Bill  was  emphatically  a  name  for 
us  to  be  afraid  of.  We  had  done  little  else 
than  listen  to  the  stories  of  his  exploits  since 
we  had  been  in  Texas.  He  didn't  do  any- 
thing very  bad,  but  he  would  steal  a  herd  of 


'EASTUS  JOHNSON.  57 

cattle, — it  didn't  make  much  difference  how 
many  men  there  were  to  guard  them, — run 
them  off  to  a  little  oasis  there  was  in  the 
Staked  Plains,  and  slaughter  them  for  their 
hides  and  tallow ;  and  when  the  story  of  the 
theft  had  been  forgotten,  two  of  his  men 
would  carry  the  proceeds  of  their  hunt  to 
some  place  and  sell  them.  He  never  killed 
men  unless  they  resisted,  and  then  he  shot 
them  down  without  ceremony.  Many  a  time 
have  we  sat  on  the  porch  after  dark  when  the 
cowboys  were  there,  listening  to  the  stories 
about  him,  and  if  this  man  was  Coyote  Bill  he 
must  have  been  highly  amused  at  some  things 
that  were  said  about  him.  We  were  both 
inclined  to  doubt  the  story  of  his  identity. 
No  one  had  ever  seen  Coyote  Bill,  and  how 
could  Elam  tell  what  he  looked  like  ? 

"  Elam,  you  are  certainly  mistaken,"  said 
I  ;  and  the  more  I  thought  of  his  story  the 
less  credit  I  put  in  it.  "If  you  had  seen 
Coyote  Bill  I  should  be  tempted  to  believe 
you ;  but  you  know  you  have  never  met 
him." 

"  And  then  just  think  what  he  has  done  I  " 


58  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

added  Tom.  uHe  comes  up  here  and  agrees 
with  Carlos,  a  man  whom  he  had  never  seen 
before,  to  go  in  cahoots  with  him.  The  idea 
is  ridiculous.  And  how  did  Clifford  Hender- 
son fall  in  with  him  ?" 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  that,"  re- 
turned Elam,  as  if  his  mind  was  fully  made 
up.  "I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  :  I'll  bet  that 
Carlos  dassent  call  him  Coyote  Bill  to  his 
face!" 

"  You  may  safely  bet  that,  for  I  aint  going 
to  do  it,"  said  I,  looking  around  the  corner 
of  the  house.  "  Here  he  comes,  boys.  You 
had  better  get  on  your  horses  and  make  tracks 
away  from  here." 

The  boys  lost  no  time  in  getting  off  the 
porch  and  to  their  horses,  which  they  had  left 
standing  close  by  with  their  bridles  down,  so 
that  they  would  not  stray  away.  They  swung 
themselves  into  their  saddles  with  all  haste, 
and  I  sat  down  to  await  the  coming  of  Coyote 
Bill,  if  that  was  his  real  name,  and  to  think 
over  what  I  had  heard. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
ELAM'S  POOR  MARKSMANSHIP. 

" COYOTE  BILL!"  I  kept  repeating  to 
\^J  myself.  That  name  had  probably  been 
given  to  him  by  the  Texans  on  account  of  his 
being  so  sneaking  and  sly — so  sly  that  none  of 
the  men  he  had  robbed  had  ever  been  able  to 
see  him.  What  his  other  name  was  I  didn't 
know.  While  I  was  turning  the  matter  over 
in  my  mind  Bill  came  around  the  corner.  I 
confess  he  did  not  look  like  so  dangerous  a 
fellow,  and  if  I  had  met  him  on  the  prairie 
and  been  in  want,  I  should  have  gone  to  him 
without  any  expectation  of  being  refused. 
He  looked  surprised  to  see  me  sitting  there 
alone. 

"  Where  are  they  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Whom  do  you  mean?"  I  enquired,  being 
determined,  if  I  could,  to  answer  no  questions 
except  those  he  had  on  his  mind.  How  did  I 
know  whom  he  referred  to  when  he  spoke  of 


60  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

"they,"  and  wanted  to  know  where  they 
were? 

u  I  mean  the  old  man  and  Bob,  and  all  the 
rest  of  them,"  he  added.  "I  thought  they 
were  here  with  you." 

"  Tom  and  Elam  have  gone  off  riding, — 
there  they  go, —and  Mr.  Davenport  and  Bob 
have  gone  into  the  ranch  to  have  a  nap.  I 
can't  steal  the  pocket-book  now,  even  if  I 
wanted  to,  for  Bob  is  keeping  guard  over  it. 
It  is  true  he  don't  know  what  there  is  in  it,  but 
he  is  keeping  watch  of  his  father  all  the  same." 

"Look  here,  Carlos,"  said  Bill,  coming  up 
close  to  the  porch,  c '  do  you  ever  have  charge 
of  the  old  man  in  that  way  ?  " 

"In  what  way?" 

"  Well,  I  haven't  been  able  to  do  any  busi- 
ness in  almost  a  year,  and  I  am  getting 
heartily  tired  of  it." 

"  What  business  do  you  mean  ? " 

"Aw!  Go  on,  now.  You  know  what  I 
mean.  I  can't  steal  cattle  that  are  half 
starved,  for  I  wouldn't  make  anything  out  of 
them  if  I  did.  I  am  getting  impatient,  and 
my  boss  is  getting  impatient,  too." 


ELAM'S  POOE  MARKSMANSHIP.  61 

"  Well  ? "  said  I,  when  he  paused. 

"I  want  you  to  see  if  you  can't  secure 
possession  of  that  pocket-book  by  to-morrow 
night,"  said  Bill,  in  a  quiet  way  that  had  a 
volume  of  meaning  in  it.  "  You  see,  it  isn't 
the  will  that  Henderson  cares  for.  The  cattle 
are  pretty  well  gone  up,  and  there  won't  be 
a  third  of  them  left  when  we  get  to  Trinity. 
What  he  cares  most  about  is  the  bonds.  If  he 
can  get  them  in  his  hands  he  will  be  all  right." 

"Why,  Coyote  Bill "  I  began. 

I  stopped  suddenly,  with  a  long-drawn  gasp, 
for  I  had  done  the  very  thing  I  was  willing  to 
bet  Elam  I  would  not  do.  Bill  started  and 
looked  at  me  closely,  and  one  hand  moved  to 
the  butt  of  his  revolver.  My  heart  was  in  my 
mouth.  Coyote  Bill's  face  was  a  study,  and  I 
was  sure  my  slip  of  the  tongue  had  hit  him  in 
a  vital  spot.  Understand  me,  I  didn't  speak 
his  name  knowing  what  I  was  doing,  but. 
because  I  couldn't  help  myself.  The  idea 
that  I  was  to  steal  that  pocket-book  at  twenty- 
four  hours'  notice  was  more  than  I  could 
stand,  and  I  blurted  out  the  first  words  that 
came  into  my  mind.  I  never  had  had  much 


62  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

practice  in  studying  out  the  different  emo- 
tions that  flit  across  a  person's  mind,  but  I 
was  sure  that  in  Coyote  Bill's  expression  both 
rage  and  mirth  struggled  for  the  mastery- 
rage,  that  I  had  suddenly  found  out  his  name 
since  I  had  left  him  ;  and  mirth,  because  I,  an 
unarmed  boy,  should  stand  there  and  call  him 
something  which  he  didn't  like  too  well  any- 
way. So  I  resolved  to  put  a  bold  face  on  the 
matter. 

"See  here,  Bill "  was  the  way  I  began 

the  conversation. 

"Who  told  you  that  was  my  name?"  he 
asked. 

"Why,  Bill,  I  have  done  nothing  but  hear 
about  you  and  your  doings  since  I  have  been 
here,"  I  answered.  "You  certainly  do  not 
pretend  to  say  you  are  not  what  I  represented 
you  to  be?" 

"Well,  that's  neither  here  nor  there,"  said 
he,  taking  his  hand  away  from  his  pistol. 
"You  are  a  brave  lad  ;  I  will  say  that  much 
for  you,  and  you  ought  to  be  one  of  us. 
What's  the  reason  you  can't  steal  the  pocket- 
book  by  to-morrow  night  ?  " 


ELAM'S  POOR  MARKSMANSHIP.  63 

I  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief.  The  worst  of 
the  danger  was  passed,  but  the  recollection  of 
what  might  be  done  to  me  after  a  while  made 
me  shudder.  I  had  half  a  mind  to  slip  away 
that  very  night,  but  I  knew  that  Elam  would 
scorn  such  a  proposition.  He  meant  to  stay 
and  see  the  thing  out.  I  tell  you  I  wished  he 
stood  in  my  boots,  more  than  once. 

"Because  Bob  is  keeping  guard  over  it,"  I 
said.  "He  don't  know  what  there  is  in  it,  I 
tell  you  ;  but  he  has  been  made  to  understand 
that  there  is  something  in  it  that  concerns 
himself,  and  so  he  is  keeping  an  eye  on  it." 

"Does  he  know  that  he  is  in  danger  of 
losing  it?" 

"Yes,  he  does  ;  but  he  don't  know  where 
the  trouble  is  coming  from." 

"  Well,  you  have  got  hold  of  my  name,  and 
I  wish  you  hadn't  done  it,"  said  Bill,  looking 
down  at  the  ground  and  kicking  a  chip  away 
with  his  foot.  "  Be  careful  that  you  don't 
use  it  where  anybody  else  can  hear  it.  Per- 
haps I  can  find  some  other  way  to  get  it.  Do 
you  sleep  very  sound  ? " 
j  I  don't  know  what  reply  I  made  to  this  ques- 


64  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

tion,  for  it  showed  me  that  Bil]  was  about  to 
attempt  something  after  we  had  retired  to 
rest.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  he  would  try 
it  too,  but  whether  or  not  he  would  succeed 
in  getting  by  Elam  was  a  different  story 
altogether.  I  made  it  up  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment  to  take  Elam  into  my  confidence. 
He  was  a  fellow  who  could  remain  awake  for 
three  or  four  nights,  and  in  the  morning  he 
would  be  as  fresh  and  rosy  as  though  he  had 
enjoyed  a  good  night's  sleep. 

"You  want  to  sleep  pretty  soundly  to- 
night, whatever  you  may  do  on  other  occa- 
sions," said  Bill,  in  a  very  decided  manner. 
"I  shan't  be  here  in  the  morning." 

He  went  off,  whistling  softly  to  himself,  and 
I  went  back  to  my  chair  and  sat  down.  They 
told  us,  when  we  first  talked  of  going  to 
Texas,  that  we  would  find  things  very  different 
there,  and  indeed  I  had  found  them  so.  In 
Denver,  if  a  man  had  betrayed  himself  in  the 
same  careless  manner  that  Coyote  Bill  had 
done,  he  would  have  been  shot  on  sight ;  but 
here  were  three  boys  who  knew  what  Bill  had 
done,  some  of  whom  had  the  reputation  of 


ELAM'S  POOR  MARKSMANSHIP.  65 

being  quick  to  slioot,  and  they  were  afraid  to 
do  a  thing.  It  was  the  man's  fame  as  a  quick 
shot  that  stood  him  well  in  hand.  When  I 
came  to  think  of  it,  I  was  disgusted  with 
myself  and  everybody  else.  If  anyone  had 
told  me  that  I  would  turn  out  to  be  such  a  cow- 
ard I  would  have  been  very  indignant  at  him. 

The  hot  day  wore  away,  and  presently  I  saw 
Tom  and  Elam  coming  back.  They  could  not 
stay  away  when  they  knew  that  something 
was  going  on  behind  their  backs.  Mr.  Daven- 
port and  Bob  came  out ;  the  cook  began  to 
bestir  himself,  the  dishes  rattled  in  the 
kitchen,  and  in  a  little  while  they  told  us  that 
supper  was  ready.  Of  course  we  had  to  be 
as  neat  here  as  we  had  anywhere  else,  and 
Elam  and  I  found  ourselves  at  the  wash-basin. 
There  was  no  one  in  sight. 

"Elam,"  said  I,  in  an  excited  whisper, 
"  whatever  you  do,  you  mustn't  go  to  sleep 
to-night!" 

"Sho!"  answered  Elam.  "What's  going 
on  to-night?" 

"Coyote  Bill  has  made  up  his  mind  to  steal 
that  pocket-book.  He  says  that  the  bonds 
5 


66  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

are  all  he  wants  out  of  it.  He  means  some 
mining  stocks,  I  suppose." 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Elam,  burying  his  face 
in  the  towel,  "  how  is  he  goin'  to  work  to 
get  it?" 

il  He  intends  to  come  in  after  we  are  all 
asleep  and  feel  under  the  pillows  for  it.  He 
asked  me  if  I  slept  rather  soundly  at  night, 
and  I  don't  know  what  answer  I  made  him; 
but  I  thought  of  you  and  concluded  you 
could  keep  awake.  I  have  found  out,  too, 
that  his  name  is  Coyote  Bill,  just  as  you  said 
it  was." 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  said  Elam,  de- 
lighted to  know  that  he  had  found  out  some- 
thing about  the  man.  "I  knowed  that  was 
the  way  I  would  act  if  I  was  him.  What  did 
he  say  when  you  told  him  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  I  was  a  brave  boy  and  ought 
to  be  one  of  '  us,'  as  he  explained  it.  Does 
he  mean  that  I  ought  to  belong  to  his  gang 
and  help  him  steal  cattle?" 

"  Sure  !  You  couldn't  be  one  of  him  nnd 
help  do  anything  else,  could  you  ?  How  do 
you  reckon  he  is  going  to  come  in  2 " 


ELAM'S  POOR  MARKSMANSHIP.  67 

"I  don't  know.  You  will  have  to  keep 
wide  awake  and  find  out." 

"I'll  bet  you  I  don't  sleep  a  wink  to-night. 
If  he  thinks  he  can  get  away  with  that 
pocket-book  let  him  try  it ;  that's  all." 

"But  I  don't  see  why  he  should  pick  me 
out  as  a  brave  boy  and  want  me  to  join  his 
gang." 

"Well,  Carlos,  I  will  say  this  fur  you," 
said  Elam,  putting  the  towel  back  on  its  nail 
and  rolling  down  his  sleeves:  "You  have  a 
most  innercent  way  of  talkin'  when  you  get 
into  danger,  an'  a  man  don' t  think  you  know 
that  there  is  danger  in  it." 

"Nonsense!  I  have  been  afraid  that  Bill 
would  shoot  at  any  minute.  I  am  really 
afraid  of  him." 

"Old  Bill  doesn't  know  it,  an'  that's  what 
makes  him  so  reckless.  I  will  go  further  an' 
say  you  have  a  sassy  way  of  talkin'.  Now, 
you  finish  washin'  an'  I'll  go  in  an'  set  down. 
Remember,  I  shan't  go  to  sleep  at  all 
to-night." 

I  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  assurance. 
You  see  it  would  not  do  for  me  to  lie  awake 


68  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

and  halt  Bill  when  he  came  in  for  fear  that  he 
would  accuse  me  of  treachery ;  but  with  Elam, 
who  wasn't  supposed  to  know  anything  about 
the  case,  it  would  be  different.  I  didn't  think 
that  Elam's  explanation  amounted  to  any- 
thing at  all.  In  fact,  I  did  not  see  how  I 
could  have  talked  in  any  other  way.  If  I  had 
become  excited  and  reported  the  matter  to 
Mr.  Davenport  there  would  have  been  hot 
work  there  in  the  cabin,  for  I  didn't  suppose 
that  any  of  my  companions  would  have  let 
Coyote  Bill  work  his  own  sweet  will  on  me. 
Having  finished  washing  I  went  into  the  cabin 
and  sat  down.  Bill  was  there,  and  he  was  do- 
voting  himself  to  the  eatables  before  him  like 
any  other  gentleman.  I  was  astonished  at 
the  man's  nerve. 

Supper  over,  we  went  out  on  the  porch, 
lighted  our  pipes,  and  devoted  two  hours  to 
talking.  The  most  of  the  conversation  re- 
ferred to  the  time  when  the  cattle  would  be 
along  and  we  should  get  ready  to  march  to 
Trinity.  Everybody  suspected  that  there  was 
going  to  be  a  fight  up  there  before  our  cattle 
would  be  allowed  water,  and  we  were  a  little 


ELAM'S  POOR  MARKSMANSHIP.  69 

anxious  as  to  how  it  would  come  out.  We 
expected  to  fight  the  sheriff  and  his  posse  and 
all  the  Texas  Rangers  that  could  be  sum- 
moned against  us ;  and  we  knew  that  these 
men  were  just  as  determined  as  we  were. 
They  were  fighting  for  the  crops  upon  which 
they  had  expended  so  much  labor,  and  it 
wasn't  likely  that  they  were  men  who  would 
give  way  on  our  demand. 

"Let  them  take  a  look  at  our  cattle,"  said 
Bob.  "That  will  stop  them.  The  man  has 
yet  to  be  born  who  can  resist  the  sight  of  their 
terrible  sufferings." 

"  Those  men  up  there  would  look  on  with- 
out any  twinges  of  conscience  if  they  saw  the 
last  one  of  our  herds  drop  arid  die  before  their 
eyes,"  returned  his  father.  "Here's  where 
we  expect  to  catch  them  on  the  fly  :  We  shall 
be  a  mile  or  so  behind  our  cattle,  which  will 
be  spread  out  over  an  immense  amount  of 
prairie,  and  when  those  cattle  get  a  sniff  of 
the  fresh  water,  fences  won't  stop  them.  It  is 
the  momentum  of  our  cattle  that  will  take 
them  ahead." 

I  certainly  hoped  that  such  would  be  the 


70  THE   MISSING    POCKET-BOOK. 

case,  for  I  knew  there  would  be  some  men 
stationed  along  the  banks  of  that  stream  who 
were  pretty  sure  shots  with  the  rifle.  I  didn't 
care  to  make  myself  a  target  for  one  of  them. 
The  conversation  began  to  lag  after  a  while, 
and  finally  one  of  the  cowboys  remarked  that 
sleep  had  pretty  near  corralled  him  and  he 
reckoned  he  would  go  in  and  go  to  bed ;  and 
so  they  all  dropped  off,  Elam  giving  my  arm  a 
severe  pinch  as  he  went  by.  There  was  one 
thing  about  this  arrangement  that  I  did  not 
like.  Bill  always  made  his  bunk  under  the 
trees  in  the  yard.  He  preferred  to  have  it  so. 
He  had  been  accustomed  to  sleeping  out  of 
doors  in  the  mines,  and  he  was  always  made 
uneasy  when  he  awoke  and  found  himself  in 
the  house,  for  fear  that  he  would  suffocate. 
When  it  rained  he  would  gladly  come  into  the 
ranch  and  stay  there  for  a  week,  if  it  stormed 
so  long.  He  gathered  up  the  blankets  and 
the  saddle  which  Mr.  Davenport  had  loaned 
him  for  a  bed,  bade  us  all  a  cheerful  good- 
night, and  went  out  to  his  bunk.  There  were 
three  of  us  who  knew  better  than  that.  His 
object  in  sleeping  out  of  doors  was,  in  case 


ELAM'S  POOK  MARKSMANSHIP.  71 

some  of  the  men  he  had  robbed  found  out 
where  he  hung  out,  that  he  might  have  a 
much  better  chance  for  escape. 

"He's  a  cool  one,"  I  thought,  as  I  went  in, 
pulled  off  rny  outer  clothes,  and  laid  down 
on  my  bunk.  "I'll  see  how  he  will  feel  in 
the  morning." 

I  composed  myself  to  sleep  as  I  always  did, 
and  lay  with  my  eyes  fastened  on  the  door ; 
for  I  knew  that  there  was  where  that  rascal 
Bill  would  come  in.  Both  the  doors  were 
open,  and  Elam  wouldn't  have  the  creaking 
of  hinges  to  arouse  him.  I  laid  there  until 
nearly  midnight,  and  had  not  the  least  desire 
to  sleep,  and  all  the  while  I  was  treated  to  a 
concert  that  anyone  who  has  slumbered  in 
a  room  with  half  a  dozen  men  can  readily 
imagine.  Such  a  chorus  of  snores  I  never 
heard  before,  and  what  surprised  me  more 
than  anything  else  was,  the  loudest  of  them 
seemed  to  come  from  Elam's  bunk.  Was  my 
friend  fairly  asleep  ?  I  sometimes  thought  he 
was,  and  was  on  the  point  of  awakening  him 
when  I  heard  a  faint  noise  at  the  rear  door— 
not  the  front  one,  on  which  my  gaze  was  fast- 


72  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

ened.  My  heart  beat  like  a  trip-hammer. 
Slowly,  and  without  the  least  noise,  I  turned 
my  head  to  look  in  that  direction,  but  could 
see  nothing.  All  was  still  for  a  few  seconds, 
and  then  the  sound  was  repeated.  It  was  a 
noise  something  like  that  made  by  dragging  a 
heavy  body  over  the  floor ;  then  I  looked 
down  and  could  distinctly  see  a  human  head. 
Bill  had  not  come  in  erect  as  I  thought  he 
was  going  to,  but  had  crawled  in  on  his  hands 
and  knees,  intending,  if  he  were  heard,  to 
lie  down  and  so  escape  detection.  Slowly  he 
crawled  along  until  he  came  abreast  of  Elam's 
bunk  and  not  more  than  six  feet  from  it,  and 
then  there  was  a  commotion  in  that  bunk  and 
Elam's  voice  called  out : 

"Who's  that  a-comin'  there?  Speak 
quick  !  " 

An  instant  later,  and  before  Bill  had  time 
to  reply  the  crack  of  a  revolver  awoke  the 
echoes  of  the  cabin,  and  a  short  but  des- 
perate struggle  took  place  in  Elam's  direc- 
tion. Then  the  pistol  cracked  again, and  in  an 
instant  afterward  the  intruder  was  gone.  It 
was  all  done  so  quickly  that,  although  I  had 


ELAM'S  POOR  MARKSMANSHIP.  73 

my  hand  on  my  revolver  under  my  pillow,  I 
did  not  have  time  to  fire  a  shot. 

"  Elam  !  "  I  cried  ;  "  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

"Well,  sir,  that's  the  quickest  man  I  ever 
saw,"  stammered  Elam.  "  I  had  two  pulls 
at  him,  but  he  knocked  my  arm  out  of  the 
way  and  got  safe  off." 

"  Did  you  hit  him  ?"  I  asked,  knowing  how 
impossible  it  was  for  him  to  miss  at  that 
distance. 

"No,  I  didn't.  He  hasn't  had  time  to  get 
fur  away,  an'  I  say  let's  go  after  him.  I  wish 
he  would  give  me  another  chance  at  him 
at  that  distance.  I'd  hit  him  sure." 

By  this  time  the  whole  cabin  was  in  an 
uproar.  All  started  up  with  pistols  in  their 
hands,  and  all  demanded  of  Elam  an  explana- 
tion." He  gave  it  in  a  few  words,  adding  : 

"  I  knew  mighty  well  that  the  fellow  didn't 
come  in  here  fur  no  good.  That's  the  way  I 
should  have  done  if  I  had  been  him.  He's  out 
there  now,  an'  I  say  let's  go  after  him." 

u  The  villain  was  after  my  pocket-book," 
said  Mr.  Davenport,  in  evident  excitement. 
"  He  wouldn't  have  got  more  than  five  or  ten 


74  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

dollars,  for  that  is  all  there  is  in  it.  Lem,  I 
want  you  and  Frank  to  listen  to  me,"  he 
added,  seizing  the  nearest  cowboy  by  the  arm. 
"I  have  been  keeping  'Rastus  Johnson  here 
until  I  could  find  out— 

' "Rastus  Johnson!  That  aint  ary  one  of 
his  names,"  shouted  Elam0  "His  name  is 
Coyote  Bill!" 

That  was  all  the  cowboys  wanted  to  hear. 
In  the  meantime  we  had  thrown  off  the  blank- 
ets, and  jumping  to  our  feet  followed  the 
cowboys  out  of  the  ranch— all  except  Mr. 
Davenport,  who,  knowing  that  the  night  air 
wasn't  good  for  him,  stayed  behind  to  keep 
guard  over  his  pocket-book.  I  followed  the 
cowboys  directly  to  the  place  of  Bill's  bunk, 
but  when  we  got  there  it  was  empty.  He  and 
his  six-shooters  were  gone.  I  tell  you  I 
breathed  a  good  deal  easier  after  that. 

"Coyote  Bill!"  said  Frank,  leaning  one 
hand  against  the  tree  under  which  the  fugitive 
had  made  his  bunk.  "I  wondered  what  that 
fellow's  object  was  in  coming  here  and  passing 
himself  off  for  'Rastus  Johnson,  and  now  I 
know.  Cattle  is  getting  so  that  it  doesn't 


75 

pay  to  steal  them,  and  he  was  here  to  get 
the  old  man's  pocket-book." 

"And  how  does  it  come  that  Elam  knows  so 
much  about  him?"  asked  Lem.  "You  are 
a  stranger  in  these  parts,  Elam." 

"  I  know  I  am  ;  but  that's  just  the  way  I 
should  have  acted  if  I  was  him,"  returned 
Elam,  who  began  to  see  that  he  had  made  a 
mistake  in  claiming  to  know  the  man.  "I 
said  his  name  was  Coyote  Bill,  an'  I  struck 
centre  when  I  did  it." 

"Mr.  Davenport  gave  us  the  secret  history 
of  that  pocket-book,  and  wanted  Tom  and  me 
to  swear  to  what  he  told  us,"  I  interposed, 
fearing  that  things  were  going  a  trifle  too  far. 
"That  man  tried  to  hire  me  to  steal  that 
pocket-book  to-night,  and  that  was  the  way 
Elam  came  to  get  a  shot  at  him." 

"I  didn't  get  nary  a  shot  at  him,"  ex- 
claimed Elam.  "I  pulled  onto  him  an'  he 
struck  up  my  arm." 

"  Let  us  go  in  and  talk  to  Mr.  Davenport 
about  it,"  said  I,  seeing  that  all  I  said  was 
Greek  to  the  cowboys.  "He  will  tell  you  as 
much  of  the  story  as  I  can." 


76  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

4 'Did  you  know  anything  about  this, 
Bob?"  asked  Frank. 

"  Not  a  word.  I  am  as  surprised  as  you  are 
to  hear  it,"  said  Bob. 

"Coyote  Bill!"  said  Lem,  gazing  into  the 
woods  as  if  he  had  half  a  mind  to  go  in  pur- 
suit of  the  man.  "  What  reason  have  you  for 
calling  him  that?" 

"Because  that's  the  way  I  should  have 
acted  if  I  was  him,"  answered  Elam. 

"It  wouldn't  pay  to  go  after  him,"  said 
Frank.  "He  has  laid  down  behind  a  tree  and 
can  see  everything  we  do.  Let's  go  in  and 
talk  to  the  old  man  about  it." 

All  this  conversation  was  crowded  into  a 
very  short  space  of  time.  We  hadn't  been 
out  there  two  minutes  before  we  decided  that 
it  would  be  a  waste  of  time  to  pursue  the  out- 
law, and  that  we  had  better  go  in  and  see  what 
Mr.  Davenport  had  to  say  about  it,  and  I  for 
one  was  very  glad  to  get  away  from  his  bunk. 
Of  course  Bill  was  in  ambush  out  there,  and 
how  did  I  know  but  that  he  had  a  bead  drawn 
on  me  at  that  very  moment?  We  followed 
the  cowboys  into  the  house,  and  we  found 


ELAM'S  POOR  MARKSMANSHIP.  77 

Mr.  Davenport  sitting  up  on  the  edge  of  his 
bed. 

"  You  didn't  get  him  ;  I  can  see  that  very 
plainly,"  said  he,  as  we  entered.  "I  wish  I 
had  never  heard  of  him  in  the  first  place." 

"You  have  given  us  a  history  of  that 
pocket-book,  sir,"  said  I,  beginning  my  busi- 
ness at  once,  "  and  I  beg  that  you  will  repeat 
it  for  the  benefit  of  the  cowboys.  Frank  and 
Lem  haven't  said  much,  but  I  believe  from 
their  silence  that  they  would  like  to  know 
something  about  it." 

"  Elam,  how  did  you  find  out  that  his  name 
was  Coyote  Bill?"  enquired  Mr.  Davenport. 
"That  name  has  been  bothering  me  more  than 
a  little  since  you  went  out." 

"Perhaps  you  will  allow  me  to  explain 
that,"  said  I.  "When  I  told  Elam  the  his- 
tory of  that  pocket-book,  which  I  did  as  soon 
as  you  and  Bob  had  gone  into  the  ranch  to 
have  a  nap,  he  jumped  at  the  conclusion.  He 
said  there  wasn't  another  man  in  this  part  of 
the  country  who  would  have  the  cheek  to  act 
that  way." 

"Have  I  got  to    go    all    over  that  thing 


78  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

again?"  groaned  Mr.  Davenport.  "Bob,  my 
first  word  is  to  you.  I  shall  have  that  off  my 
mind,  anyway.  You  are  not  my  son." 

It  was  dark  in  the  cabin,  but  I  could  tell  by 
the  tones  of  his  voice  how  great  an  effort  it 
was  for  him  to  say  it.  Then  he  went  on  and 
told  the  story  very  much  as  he  had  told  it  to 
me,  and  when  he  got  through  I  did  not  hear 
anything  but  the  muttered  swear  words  which 
the  cowboys  exchanged  with  each  other.  It 
was  their  way  of  expressing  utter  astonish- 
ment. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   WEST  FORK   OF  TRINITY. 

TTTHILE  Mr.  Davenport  was  speaking  I 

*  *  noticed  that  Bob  got  up  and  settled 
down  close  by  his  father  as  he  sat  on  the 
bunk,  and  placed  his  left  arm  around  his 
neck.  He  meant  to  assure  him  that  any 
revelations  he  would  make  would  cause  no 
difference  with  him.  The  man  was  his  father, 
the  only  father  he  had  ever  known,  and  as 
such  he  intended  to  acknowledge  him.  I 
could  see  that  Mr.  Davenport  was  greatly 
encouraged  by  this. 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  that  I  blame  you 
for,"  said  Lem.  "  You  ought  to  have  taken 
Frank  and  me  into  your  confidence  at  once." 

"  I  tell  you  we  would  have  made  short  work 
with  him,"  added  Frank.  "  The  idea  that 
this  Coyote  Bill  could  come  around  here  and 
bum  around  as  he  has  !  It's  scandalous  !  " 

"I  didn't  know  that  his  name  was  Coyote 
n 


80  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

Bill  until  Elam  spoke  it  out,"  returned  Mr. 
Davenport.  "Where  lie  got  it,  I  don't  know." 

"  Then,  Elam,  we?ll  have  to  take  you  to  task 
for  that." 

"I  didn't  know  it  until  just  as  we  were 
washing  for  supper,"  explained  Elam,  "an' 
then  Carlos  told  me." 

"  What  have  you  to  say  to  that,  Carlos  ?" 

"I  didn't  know  it  myself  until  Bill  pro- 
posed that  I  should  steal  that  pocket-book 
before  to-morrow  night,"  said  I ;  and  some- 
how I  couldn't  help  feeling  uneasy  by  the 
determined  way  the  two  cowboys  plied  their 
questions.  "He  surprised  me  so  suddenly 
that  I  spoke  the  first  words  that  came  into  my 
mind.  I  knew  then  that  he  was  going  to 
make  an  attempt  to  steal  it  after  we  had 
gone  to  bed,  and  so  I  told  Elam  that  he 
would  have  to  keep  awake  and  stop  it.  That 
was  the  reason  that  Elam  got  those  two 
shots  at  him." 

"Well,  it  is  a  mighty  funny  thing  how 
a  man  of  that  reputation  could  come  here 
and  pass  himself  off  for  an  honest  miner  1" 
said  Lem. 


THE   WEST   FORK   OF   TRINITY.  81 

"If  you  had  the  cheek  that  man's  got  you 
could  do  anything,"  I  continued.  "He  said 
I  ought  to  be  one  of  them.  If  he  means  by 
that,  that  I  ought  to  join  one  of  his  bands 
and  make  my  living  by  stealing  cattle,  he's 
a  long  ways  out  of  his  reach." 

"  You  will  find  the  boys  all  right,  because  I 
have  confided  in  them,"  said  Mr.  Davenport. 
"And  now  I  have  confided  in  you.  Don't  tell 
what  I  have  told  you,  please,  and  as  soon  as  I 
get  to  Trinity  I  will  ride  down  to  Austin  and 
have  this  affair  settled  up.  I  did  not  suppose 
that  man  would  trouble  me  away  out  here  in 
Texas." 

"Father,"  said  Bob,  who  had  listened  in 
speechless  wonderment  to  all  the  trouble  he 
had  caused,  "you  ought  to  have  left  me  in 
the  mines.  You  have  had  lots  of  bother 
on  account  of  me." 

"  My  dear  boy,  you  have  not  been  the  least 
particle  of  bother,"  said  Mr.  Davenport 
hastily.  "Now  you  know  why  it  was  that 
I  didn't  want  you  to  go  fishing  or  hunting 
without  me.  I  was  afraid  Henderson  might 
do  you  some  damage." 


82  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"  Did  he  want  to  kill  me  ? " 

"  No,  indeed  !  I  was  afraid  he  might  abduct 
you.  You  haven't  seen  him  since  you  were 
seven  years  old,  and  if  he  could  have  ab- 
ducted you  then,  and  got  you  away  where 
you  could  have  signed  the  papers— 

"Why,  father,  my  signature  as  a  minor 
wouldn't  have  amounted  to  anything!" 
said  Bob. 

"No;  but  he  could  have  kept  you  until 
you  were  twenty-one,  and  then  your  signa- 
ture would  have  amounted  to  something,  I 
guess.  But  I  will  talk  to  you  more  about 
this  in  the  morning.  I  have  talked  so  much 
that  I  am  fagged  out.  You  are  sure  you 
don't  think  any  the  less  of  me  for  what  I 
have  done?" 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not !  "  said  Bob,  gently  assist- 
ing the  invalid  back  upon  his  bed.  "If  all 
the  money  you  have  should  go  to  Henderson, 
I  should  always  think  of  you  as  I  do  now." 

"Well,  I  should  think  a  great  deal  less  of 
myself,"  replied  Mr.  Davenport  emphatically. 
"Bob,  you  will  get  it  all.  I  could  not  rest 
easy  in  my  grave  if  I  knew  you  were  to  be 


THE   WEST   FORK   OF  TRINITY.  83 

cheated  out  of  it.  You  five  boys  will  bear 
testimony  to  what  I  say  ?  Thank  you  !  Now, 
Bob,  cover  me  up  from  the  night  air.  Good- 
night!  " 

Mr.  Davenport  sank  back  on  his  pillows 
and  soon  breathed  the  sleep  of  exhaustion, 
while  the  rest  of  us,  who  couldn't  bear  to 
think  of  lying  down,  went  out  upon  the  porch. 
Of  course  I  was  glad  to  see  that  the  cowboys 
had  got  over  their  suspicions  of  Elam  and 
me,  and  one  would  have  thought  from  some 
expressions  they  used  that  such  a  thing  had 
never  been  heard  of,  even  in  Texas.  We 
lighted  our  pipes  and  sat  down  to  smoke  on 
it,  hoping  that  the  thing  would  come  clearer 
to  us  under  the  influence  of  the  weed.  The 
only  thing  the  cowboys  blamed  Mr.  Dav- 
enport for  was  that  he  did  not  expose 
Coyote  Bill  when  he  found  out  what  his  in- 
tentions were.  And  how  had  Bill  happened 
to  get  acquainted  with  Henderson  ?  That 
was  one  thing  that  they  could  not  under- 
stand. 

"This    thing   isn't   settled   yet,  by  a  long 
ways,"  said  Frank,  who,  having  emptied  one 


84  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

pipe,  filled  up  for  a  fresh  smoke.  "Just  the 
minute  anything  happens  to  the  old  man,  that 
fellow  Henderson  will  come  on  here  and  lay 
claim  to  that  pocket-book.  But  Bob  will 
already  have  it  safe  in  his  good  clothes.  I 
want  to  see  the  man  that  says  it  is  his." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Lem.  "He  won't  say  it  a 
second  time,  I  bet  you  !  " 

"  Father  spoke  about  his  keeping  me  until 
I  was  twenty-one,  and  then  my  signature 
would  amount  to  something,"  said  Bob,  when 
the  conversation  lagged  a  little.  "  What 
would  Henderson  do?  I  guess  I'd  know 
more  then  than  I  do  now." 

"That  would  make  no  difference,"  said 
Frank.  "  He  could  keep  you  on  bread  and 
water  until  you  would  be  glad  to  sign 
anything." 

"  Would  he  shut  me  up?"  exclaimed  Bob, 
looking  at  me. 

"He  might  put  you  into  a  lunatic  asylum," 
I  answered. 

"Great  Scott!  And  all  the  time  I  would 
be  as  sane  as  he  is  !  " 

"That  would  make  no  difference,  either," 


THE   WEST   FORK    OF   TRINITY.  85 

said  Frank.  "There  are  plenty  of  men  who 
run  an  insane  asylum  who  would  be  glad  to 
take  a  patient  on  such  terms  as  he  could  offer. 
Ten  or  fifteen  thousand  dollars  at  the  end  of 
six  years  would  make  him  open  his  eyes. 
Before  you  had  been  with  him  a  week  you 
would  see  all  sorts  of  things." 

"Well,  this  beats  me!"  gasped  Bob. 
"And  I  just  as  sane  as  anybody!  Such 
things  aint  right." 

"  I  know  they  are  not  right,"  said  Lem. 
"There  are  plenty  of  things  that  happen  in 
this  world  that  you  know  nothing  about,  and 
money  will  do  a  heap  of  things." 

"But  Henderson  has  no  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars to  give  such  a  man." 

"No,  but  he  would  soon  get  it.  I  tell  you 
your  father  has  done  right  in  watching  you." 

We  all  smoked  two  or  three  pipes  of 
tobacco  and  then  Lem  said  he  was  getting 
sleepy,  whereupon  we  all  followed  him  into 
the  ranch  and  went  to  bed.  I  don't  suppose 
that  Bob  slumbered  a  wink  that  night,  but 
I  slept  as  soundly  as  though  such  men  as 
Coyote  Bill  had  not  been  within  a  hundred 


86  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

miles  of  us  ;  and  yet  he  came  back  that  same 
night  and  stole  the  rest  of  his  bedding.  A 
little  further  examination  showed  us  that  Mr. 
Davenport's  favorite  riding  horse  was  also 
missing,  and  then  we  knew  that  if  we  ever 
caught  him  again  salt  would  not  save  him. 
The  man  had  been  guilty  of  stealing  horses, 
and  that  was  enough  to  hang  him.  When  I 
had  made  these  observations  I  went  back  to 
tell  them  to  Mr.  Davenport. 

"Of  course  the  man  is  plucky,"  said  he, 
"and  it  is  going  to  get  him  into  serious 
trouble  some  day.  Now,  I  want  you  boys 
to  come  here  and  sign  as  witnesses  to  my 
signature.  I  take  my  solemn  oath  that  I 
wrote  this  myself,"  he  added,  placing  his 
forefinger  upon  his  sign  manual,  "and  that 
everything  in  this  will  is  just  what  I  want  it 
to  be.  Now,  boys,  place  your  own  signatures 
there.  Now,  Bob,  you  sign  right  there  as 
witness  to  their  signatures.  There,  I  guess  it 
is  all  right.  If  anything  happens  to  me,  get 
this  pocket-book  into  your  hands  as  soon  as 
possible." 

There  was  one  thing  that  occurred  to  me 


THE   WEST   FORK   OF   TRINITY.  87 

right  there,  although  I  did  not  say  anything 
about  it.  Mr.  Davenport  seemed  to  be  thor- 
oughly convinced  that  something  was  going  to 
happen  to  him  during  his  ride  to  Trinity,  and 
since  he  knew  it,  why  didn't  he  give  his 
pocket-book  up  to  someone  else?  That,  it 
seemed  to  me,  would  be  the  surest  way,  for 
everybody  who  knew  anything  about  the  mat- 
ter would  know  right  where  the  will  ought  to 
be  found  in  case  anything  "happened"  to  the 
invalid.  I  thought  the  matter  over  while  I 
was  getting  ready  for  breakfast,  and  con- 
cluded that  Bob  or  somebody  else  would  cer- 
tainly see  some  misfortune  on  account  of  that 
pocket-book.  It  stuck  close  to  me,  and  some- 
how I  couldn't  get  rid  of  it. 

I  pass  over  the  next  few  days,  during  which 
nothing  transpired  that  is  worthy  of  notice. 
We  did  nothing  but  talk  about  Coyote  Bill, 
and  wondered  where  he  had  gone  now  and 
where  we  should  be  likely  to  meet  him  again, 
for  there  were  none  of  us  who  didn't  expect  to 
see  him  once  more.  He  wasn't  the  man  to 
give  up  twenty  thousand  dollars  because  one 
attempt  to  secure  it  had  failed.  And  then 


88  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

what  would  lie  say  to  me  ?    I  had  been  guilty 
of  treachery  to  him,  and  that  was  a  fact. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day,  after  we 
had  packed  our  wagon  with  water  and  provi- 
sions, and  got  all  ready  for  the  start,  the 
cattle  from  the  lower  counties  made  their 
appearance.  I  tell  you  I  never  saw  so  many 
head  of  stock  before  in  my  life.  They 
covered  the  hills  to  the  right  and  left  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  as  to  how  deep 
they  were  I  don't  know.  If  a  man  had  all 
those  cattle  in  good  trim,  he  would  have 
nothing  to  do  but  sit  in  his  rocking-chair  and 
sell  them.  I  wondered  how  many  of  them 
would  live  to  reach  Trinity.  Not  one  in  ten, 
I  was  satisfied.  They  flocked  into  our  water- 
holes,  and  in  five  minutes  there  wasn't  water 
enough  left  to  wet  your  tongue  with.  The 
strongest  fences  that  could  have  been  made 
would  not  have  delayed  them  a  minute. 
Presently  the  leader  of  the  movement  ap- 
peared in  sight,  and  came  up  to  the  porch 
on  which  we  were  sitting.  His  name  was 
Chisholm,  and  he  seemed  the  very  personifi- 
cation of  good  nature.  He  looked  at  us  boys 


THE  WEST  FORK   OF   TRINITY.  89 

because  he  hadn't  seen  us  before,  and  greeted 
us  in  his  hearty  Western  fashion. 

"How-dy!"  said  he.  "  Are  you  all  ready 
to  start  ?  I  hope  you've  got  a  little  mite  of 
water  laid  by  for  us,  for  we  haven't  had  a 
drink  in  so  long  that  we  don't  know  how  it 
tastes." 

"Oh,  yes  !  we've  got  a  drink  for  you,"  said 
Mr.  Davenport.  "Go  into  that  building  right 
there  and  you  will  find  two  barrels.  Fill  up 
your  keg  with  them." 

"By  George!  you  are  the  right  sort," 
said  Mr.  Chisholm.  "I  was  afraid  some  of 
our  beeves  would  drink  it  all  up  before  we  got 
here  and  not  give  us  any." 

"Have  you  lost  many  cattle  coming  here?" 
asked  Mr.  Davenport. 

"Well,  sir,  the  road  is  just  lined  with 
them,"  answered  Mr.  Chisholm,  getting  off 
his  horse  and  slipping  his  bridle  over  its 
head.  "If  you  follow  the  dead  beeves,  you 
can  go  straight  to  my  ranch.  Nobody  ever 
heard  of  such  weather  as  this  before.  It 
doesn't  look  like  rain  in  this  part  of  the 
country." 


90  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

' '  No,  indeed, ' '  said  Mr.  Davenport.  * c  It  has 
been  dry  and  hazy  every  day  as  long  as  I  can 
remember.  Do  you  think  we  will  get  up  to 
Trinity  with  any  beeves?" 

"  Oh,  we've  got  to.     It  is  our  only  show." 

4 'Do  you  think  we  shall  have  a  fight  up 
there?"  asked  Bob. 

"  Certain  !  What  would  you  do  if  you  were 
in  their  place  ?  They  think  they  are  in  the 
right,  and  we  know  we  are,  and  the  first  one 
of  our  cattle  that  goes  down  to  the  water  in 
Trinity  will  be  tumbled  over.  I  am  afraid 
that  they  will  outnumber  us.  The  Rangers 
and  the  farmers  and  the  police— I  don't  know. 
But  our  cattle  must  have  water  and  grass  ;  we 
won't  take  'no'  for  an  answer." 

"Do  you  know  'Rastus  Johnson?"  said 
Mr.  Davenport  suddenly. 

"Yes,  I  know  him,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm, 
looking  around.  "What  of  him?" 

"He  stole  my  favorite  riding  horse  this 
week." 

"  Aha  !  That  wasn't  all  he  did  either,"  said 
Mr.  Chisholm,  looking  hard  at  the  invalid. 

"No,  it  wasn't,"   replied  Mr.   Davenport, 


THE   WEST   FORK   OF   TRINITY.  91 

who  took  out  the  pocket-book,  told  what  was 
in  it,  and  of  the  attempt  that  had  been  made 
to  steal  it  a  few  nights  before.  When  he 
mentioned  the  name  of  Coyote  Bill  Mr.  Chis- 
hohn  almost  jumped  from  his  chair,  and  so 
did  the  men  who  had  been  driving  the  wagon. 
They  had  obeyed  orders  and  filled  up  their 
empty  barrel,  took  a  good  drink  themselves, 
and  brought  along  a  cupful  for  their  leader. 
Then  they  sat  down  and  waited  until  Mr. 
Chisholm  got  ready  to  start,  and  listened  to 
the  story. 

"  Coyote  Bill !  "  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  in  dis- 
may. "I  have  wanted  to  find  that  fellow  for 
more' n  a  year,  and  here  I've  run  up  against 
him  two  or  three  times  during  the  last  six 
months.  It  is  a  pity  that  boy  didn't  shoot 
him.  What  were  you  thinking  of?"  he 
added,  turning  fiercely  upon  Elam.  " Didn't 
you  know  that  it  would  put  five  thousand 
dollars  in  your  pocket?" 

"No,  I  never  heared  of  that,"  replied 
Elam,  somewhat  startled  to  find  out  that  he 
had  had  a  pull  on  a  man  worth  that  sum  of 
money. 


92  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"Well,  the  stock-raisers  down  in  our 
county  would  give  that  much  for  him  any 
day.  You  had  a  chance  to  make  yourself 
rich  and  then  went  and  threw  it  away.  Dog- 
gone such  a  shot !" 

"Look  here,  friend,"  said  Elam,  straighten- 
ing up  in  his  chair  and  fastening  his  eyes 
upon  Mr.  Chisholm,  "I  didn't  shoot  him 
because  I  couldn't ;  that's  why.  What  would 
you  'a'  done  if  a  man  had  jumped  on  you 
while  you  were  flat  in  bed  an'  seized  the 
pistol,  an'  turned  it  t'other  way?  I  done  my 
best." 

"Well,  maybe  you  did,  but  it  sounds 
kinder  funny  to  me.  I  wish  he  would  give 
me  such  a  shot  as  that.  Where  do  you  think 
he  is  now?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  answered  Mr.  Davenport, 
"  He  has  gone  off  with  that  horse,  and  he  cer- 
tainly won't  stop  until  he  gets  among  friends. 
I  am  willing  to  trust  Elam  with  my  life. 
There  are  not  many  of  you  can  shoot  as  he 
can." 

This  went  a  long  way  toward  cooling  the 
hot  temper  of  Elam,  although  I  noticed  that 


THE   WEST   FORK   OF   TRINITY.  93 

during  the  first  part  of  the  time  we  were  in 
the  drive  he  kept  one  eye  fastened  upon  Mr. 
'Chisholm  the  whole  time.  He  didn't  like  the 
imputation  that  had  been  cast  upon  his 
prowess.  If  the  leader  had  been  in  Elam's 
place,  and  had  Coyote  Bill's  grasp  on  his 
throat  and  wrist,  he  might  have  been  led 
to  believe  that  the  desperado  had  plenty  of 
strength  as  well  as  pluck. 

Mr.  Chisholm  and  his  men  slept  at  the 
ranch  that  night,  and  bright  and  early  the 
next  morning  we  were  on  the  move.  We 
packed  up  in  something  of  a  hurry  when  we 
got  fairly  ready  to  go,  and  I  speak  of  it  here 
so  that  you  may  have  no  difficulty  in  under- 
standing what  happened  afterward.  Not  a 
single  one  of  the  herd  was  in  sight.  We  fol- 
lowed along  the  ground  they  had  passed  over, 
and  it  was  as  bare  as  your  hand.  Not  a  blade 
of  grass  was  to  be  seen.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  the  grain  we  had  provided  for  our  horses 
in  the  wagons,  they  would  have  fared  badly, 
indeed,  and  then  they  didn't  like  the  grain 
any  too  well.  It  was  only  when  they  were 
about  half  starved  that  they  would  touch  it. 


94  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

I  never  knew  what  starving  cattle  were 
before,  for  although  I  had  been  a  week  at  the 
ranch,  I  had  never  been  out  to  see  what  was 
going  on.  The  nearest  herd  was  probably 
half  a  day's  journey  distant.  I  stayed  in  the 
ranch  with  Mr.  Davenport  almost  all  the  time. 
I  had  not  seen  the  walking  skeletons  which  were 
now  shambling  before  us,  but  now  I  saw  them 
all  too  plainly.  Every  once  in  a  little  w,hile 
we  would  come  across  some  stricken  animal 
who  had  laid  down,  and  was  waiting  for  death 
to  come.  And  it  was  so  all  along  our  route. 
Whichever  way  you  turned  your  eyes  you 
were  sure  to  see  some  dead  cattle. 

"I'll  just  tell  you  what's  a  fact,  Mr.  Daven- 
port," said  I,  after  counting  thirteen  dead 
animals,  who  could  not  go  any  further.  "If 
we  keep  on  losing  cattle  at  this  rate  we'll 
have  to  go  at  something  else  when  we  get  up 
to  Trinity.  There  will  be  no  need  for  the 
Rangers  and  farmers  to  gather  up  there,  for 
we  shan't  have  many  animals  to  shoot." 

"  It  looks  that  way  to  me,  I  confess,"  said 
the  man,  looking  down  at  the  horn  of  his 
saddle.  "But  you  know  what  Mr.  Chis- 


THE    WEST   FORK    OF   TRINITY.  95 

holm  said.  We  must  go  on  ;  it's  our  only 
show." 

For  three  weeks  we  were  in  the  drive  (the 
journey  could  have  been  made  in  one  week  if 
the  cattle  had  been  in  trim),  seeing  nothing 
new — nothing  but  dead  animals  and  a  prairie 
that  looked  as  hard  as  the  road.  During  all 
this  time  there  was  a  little  party  of  us  that 
were  kept  in  a  state  of  suspense,  and  it  was 
all  the  more  painful  to  us  because  we  could 
not  say  anything  about  it.  Mr.  Davenport 
was  failing  rapidly  ;  anybody  could  see  that, 
and  now  and  then  some  cowboy  looked  pity- 
ingly at  Bob.  And  Bob  knew  it  all  the 
while,  and  took  pains  to  keep  it  from  his 
father,  and  from  us,  too.  He  would  joke  and 
laugh  with  him  all  day,  and  when  night  came 
would  roll  over  and  cry  himself  to  sleep.  No 
son  ever  tried  harder  to  make  a  parent's  last 
days  happy. 

"  I  tell  you  I'd  like  to  see  that  Clifford  Hen- 
derson about  now,"  said  Tom  Mason.  "That 
boy  has  cried  himself  to  sleep  again.  Bob 
hasn't  got  anything  here  anyway,  and  I'd 
like  to  see  somebody  come  up  and  take  away 


96  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

his  last  cent  from  him.  He  shouldn't  get 
away  with  it." 

Things  went  on  in  this  way  until  the 
wooded  shores  of  Trinity  were  in  plain  sight, 
and  that  brown- whiskered  farmer  came  out  in 
company  with  a  deputy  sheriff  to  hold  a  con- 
sultation with  Mr.  Chisholm — "  the  boss,"  he 
called  him.  You  all  know  what  that  ''con- 
sultation" amounted  to.  It  was  defiance  on 
one  side  and  threats  to  have  our  cattle  shot  on 
the  other.  That  brown- whiskered  man  must 
have  been  crazy,  if  he  thought  that  our  small 
force  of  sixty  men  could  turn  those  beeves 
back  when  they  had  got  "a  sniff  of  that 
water"  that  was  flashing  along  on  the  other 
side  of  the  willows,  for  they  were  already 
bearing  down  upon  it  with  the  irresistible 
power  of  an  avalanche.  All  the  cowboys  in 
the  State  could  not  have  turned  them  from 
their  purpose.  I  looked  at  Mr.  Davenport  to 
see  what  he  thought  about  it. 

"  Well,  boys,  this  begins  to  look  like  war," 
said  he,  with  an  attempt  at  a  smile.  He  was 
very  pale,  but  he  clutched  his  rifle  with  the 
hand  of  one  who  had  made  up  his  mind  to  die 


THE   WEST   FORK   OF  TRINITY.  97 

right  there.  "Two  hundred  against  sixty  is 
big  odds,  but  we  must  face  the  music.  Our 
cattle  must  have  water,  or  we  shall  lose  more 
than  half  we've  got  left  before  morning.  Go 
and  water  your  horses,  and  then  come  back 
and  see  if  you  can't  arouse  some  of  these 
beeves.  If  you  can  only  induce  them  to  go 
ahead  a  mile  further  they  will  have  water 
enough." 

"You  will  remain  close  by  the  wagon?" 
enquired  Bob. 

"I  will  stay  right  here,"  returned  his 
father.  "When  you  want  me  come  right 
back  to  the  wagon." 

The  events  of  the  next  quarter  of  an  hour 
proved  one  of  two  things :  either  that  the 
farmers,  when  they  saw  the  immense  herd 
approaching  their  ambush,  realized  how 
utterly  impossible  it  was  to  stop  them,  and 
that  the  attempt  to  do  so  would  only  result  in 
a  useless  waste  of  life,  or  else  that  the  sheriff, 
acting  upon  Mr.  Chisholm's  advice,  had  pre- 
vailed upon  them  to  fall  back  and  give  the 
famishing  cattle  a  chance  at  the  water.  At 
any  rate,  to  Bob's  great  relief,  the  shot  for 

7 


98  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

which  he  was  waiting  and  listening  was  not 
fired,  and  the  cattle  dashed  through  the  wil- 
lows and  almost  buried  themselves  in  the 
stream.  When  Bob  and  his  friends  reached 
the  bank, — and  they  were  obliged  to  ride  at 
least  a  mile  up  the  bayou  before  they  could 
find  a  place  to  water  their  horses,— the  stream 
being  literally  filled  with  the  thirsty  beeves, 
— they  saw  the  farmers  gathered  in  a  body 
five  hundred  yards  away,  and  Mr.  Chisholm 
and  some  of  the  other  wealthy  cattle-owners 
were  talking  to  them. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
ME.  DAVENPORT'S  POCKET-BOOK. 

"  TT  is   too  late  for  them  to  begin  a  fight 

-J-  now,"  said  Bob,  with  a  long-drawn  sigh 
of  satisfaction.  "  Here's  water  enough  in 
abundance  and  grass  enough  to  last  the  stock 
for  a  day  or  two  ;  but  where  shall  we  go  and 
what  shall  we  do  after  that?  Who  are  those 
over  there?  More  farmers,  I  suppose,  for  if 
they  were  cattlemen  they  would  not  come 
from  that  direction." 

As  Bob  said  this  he  directed  our  attention 
to  a  long  line  of  horsemen,  who,  moving  in  a 
compact  body,  were  rapidly  approaching  the 
place  on  which  the  farmers  stood.  They 
moved  four  abreast  and  didn't  scatter  out 
enough  from  the  ranks  to  be  farmers,  and 
therefore  I  knew  them  to  be  something  else. 

"They  are  soldiers,"  I  said. 

"  Texas  Rangers  !  "  exclaimed  Bob.  "  I  am 
glad  to  see  them,  for  they  won't  let  us  fight, 


100  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

anyway.  Their  object  is  to  preserve  order  on 
the  frontier,  and  they  will  arrest  anybody 
who  doesn't  obey  them.  Let's  wait  a  few 
minutes  and  see  what  they  are  going  to  do." 

We  waited,  and  in  a  short  time  saw  that 
the  farmers  were  not  as  glad  to  see  them  as 
we  were.  The  column  halted  and  the  three 
officers  in  command  rode  up  to  see  what  the 
trouble  was  about,  and  in  two  minutes  were 
surrounded  by  a  wall  of  clenched  fists,  which 
were  flourished  in  the  air.  The  farmers 
seemed  bent  on  telling  their  story  before  the 
cattlemen  could  get  in  a  word,  but  presently 
we  heard  a  loud  voice  commanding  silence, 
and  after  that  everything  became  as  quiet  as 
could  be.  One  man  had  been  called  upon  to 
tell  what  he  knew,  and  the  others  consented 
to  wait  until  he  got  through. 

UI  guess  there  won't  be  any  fighting  as  long 
as  the  Rangers  are  here,  and  so  we  will  go 
back  and  see  to  the  cattle,"  said  I.  "  We're 
going  to  have  a  hard  time  in  getting  them 
over  the  hill,  so  that  they  can  see  the  water, 
but  if  we  can  do  that  for  even  one  it  will  be 
just  so  much  money  saved." 


ME.  DAVENPORT'S  POCKET -IB'OOK:'       101 


If  anybody  has  tried  to  get  da ttle  ;up  \\lleh 
once  they  have  laid  down  and  abandoned 
themselves  to  their  fate,  he  will  know  what  a 
time  we  had  of  it.  Whips  didn't  do  any 
good.  The  only  thing  we  could  do  was  to  use 
our  lariats  upon  them  and  fairly  drag  them  to 
their  feet.  In  this  way,  by  taking  two  boys 
to  each  cow,  we  managed  to  get  half  a  dozen 
of  them  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  where  they 
could  see  their  companions,  and  by  that  time 
it  was  pitch  dark.  We  didn't  know  whose 
cows  they  were,  and  that  made  no  difference. 
We  saw  several  other  men  engaged  as  we  were, 
and  when  the  last  squad  of  them  came  along 
we  joined  them  and  rode  toward  the  wagon. 

"  Let  the  balance  go,"  said  one  of  the  cow- 
boys. "If  the  cool  night  air  of  the  prairie 
don't  revive  them  nothing  else  will.  I  believe 
I  would  like  to  have  a  drink  of  water 
myself." 

"We  got  along  without  a  fight,  didn't 
we?"  said  Bob,  who  seemed  to  know  every- 
body  on  the  plains. 

"  Of  course ;  but  it  looked  pretty  blue  for  a 
while,  I  tell  you.  The  farmers  can't  begin  a 


102  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

fig  lit  now,  anyway.  They  ought  to  have 
pitched  into  us  the  moment  we  came  in 
'sight." 

"  Does  anybody  know  where  our  wagon 
is?"  I  enquired. 

Nobody  did.  They  were  on  the  hunt  for 
their  own  wagons  themselves,  and  the  only 
thing  they  could  do  was  to  keep  on  going 
until  they  found  them.  That  seemed  to  be 
the  only  thing  for  us  to  do,  too,  so  we  rode 
down  to  the  willows,  and  every  time  we  saw  a 
team  we  sent  one  of  our  number  in  to  make 
enquiries.  When  it  came  my  turn  I  went  in 
and  found  only  two  men,  who  were  engaged 
in  getting  their  supper. 

"That's  Mr.  Davenport's  wagon  up  there  in 
the  bend,"  said  one,  pointing  up  the  river. 
"Do  you  belong?" 

I  replied  that  I  did  belong  there,  and  that  I 
was  somewhat  anxious  to  find  it,  for  I  was 
in  need  of  something  to  eat. 

"I  hope  you  aint  any  relative  of  the  man 
who  owns  it,"  said  the  cowboy.  "  If  you  are 
you  will  find  him  as  dead  as  a  smoked 
herring." 


MR.  DAVENPORT'S  POCKET-BOOK.       103 

These  words  were  all  I  wanted  to  hear.  A 
queer  pang  shot  over  me  when  I  thought  of 
Bob.  How  was  I  to  break  the  news  to  him  ? 

"Why,  how  did  anybody  find  it  out?"  I 
managed  to  say  at  last. 

"Oh,  he's  there!  They  found  him  breath- 
ing his  last  on  the  plains,  and  brought  him  in. 
Say,  do  you  know  what  hold  Chisholm  has 
got  on  him?  He  has  got  a  guard  over  him, 
and  won't  let  nobody  go  nigh  him." 

"It  'pears  to  me  that  he's  got  some  docu- 
ments on  him  that  he  does  not  want  to  give 
up,"  said  the  other  cowboy.  "  If  you  belong 
there,  why,  of  course,  you  will  know  all 
about  it." 

I  never  had  anything  come  quite  so  hard  as 
I  did  in  riding  back  through  those  willows  to 
the  place  where  Bob  sat  on  his  horse,  for  I 
didn't  know  how  in  the  world  I  could  tell  him 
of  his  father's  death  ;  but  when  I  got  within 
sight  of  him  I  found  that  Mr.  Chisholm  was 
ahead  of  me.  When  he  found  that  Bob 
didn't  come  in  with  the  rest  of  the  cowboys 
he  had  come  out  to  find  him,  believing  that 
he  could  tell  him  better  than  anybody  else.  I 


104  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

saw  that  he  had  been  very  easy  about  it,  but 
it  was  all  Bob  could  do  to  stand  it.  Elam 
Storm  was  his  friend.  He  did  not  go  to  any- 
one else,  but  rose  up  close  to  him  and  threw 
both  his  arms  around  his  neck. 

"Oh,  Elam  !  you're  the  only  friend  I've  got 
now,"  said  Bob,  striving  hard  to  keep  back 
his  sobs. 

Elam  stammered  and  coughed,  and  looked 
all  around  for  help.  Finally  he  glanced  ap- 
pealingly  at  me,  but  what  could  I  say  ? 

"  He  was  brung  in  about  half  an  hour  ago," 
said  Mr.  Chisholm,  drawing  his  hand  hastily 
across  his  face.  "  And  although  we  have  had 
two  doctors  at  him,  whom  we  found  among  the 
Rangers,  they  say  it  is  too  late  to  do  anything. 
They  say  it  is  something  like  heart  disease." 

"Was  no  one  near  him  when  he  was 
taken?"  I  asked,  feeling  that  I  must  say 
something. 

"There  were  a  dozen  men  near  him,"  was 
the  answer.  "They  got  to  him  as  quickly  as 
they  could,  but  couldn't  be  of  any  use.  And 
I'll  tell  you  that  he  had  his  left  hand  tightly 
clasped  on  his  pocket-book,"  said  Mr.  Chis- 


MR.  DAVENPORT'S  POCKET-BOOK.       105 

holm,  riding  up  closer  to  me  and  speaking  in 
a  whisper.  "  So  that  is  safe." 

I  breathed  easier  after  that,  and  fell  in 
beside  Mr.  Chisholm,  who  led  the  way  slowly 
toward  the  wagon.  We  found  it  completely 
surrounded  by  men — Rangers,  farmers,  and 
cowboys — who  had  come  in  to  see  about  it ; 
for  it  was  seldom  that  a  loss  like  this  hap- 
pened during  a  drive.  But  they  paid  no 
attention  to  us.  Their  gaze  was  fixed  upon  a 
man  who  had  attempted  to  go  into  the  wagon, 
but  the  guard  had  stopped  him.  We  worked 
our  way  gradually  through  the  crowd,  and 
Bob,  who  gave  little  heed  to  what  was  going 
on  around  him,  threw  himself  from  his  horse, 
and  made  his  way  into  the  wagon. 

"Elam,"  said  he,  "you  must  go  with  me. 
I  feel  safer  when  you  are  around." 

The  guard,  prompted  by  a  sign  from  Mr. 
Chisholm,  allowed  him  to  pass,  and  nobody 
made  any  effort  to  stop  him,  but  the  man  who 
was  talking  with  the  guard  was  well-nigh 
furious. 

"Who's  that  who  allows  a  stranger  to  go 
in  to  my  brother?"  said  he,  turning  fiercely 


106  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

upon  Mr.  Chisholm.  "I  guess  I  have  got 
more  right  in  there  than  he  has." 

"  Who  be  you?"  asked  Mr.  Chisholm. 

"I  am  Clifford  Henderson,  if  it  will  do  you 
any  good  to  know  it,"  answered  the  man.  "I 
haven' t  seen  my  brother  for  eight  years,  and  I 
claim  the  right  to  go  in  to  him." 

" That's  nothing  more  than  fair,  Aleck," 
said  one  of  the  cowboys.  "  He  has  as  good  a 
right  to  see  him  as  anybody." 

So  that  was  Clifford  Henderson,  was  it? 
Mr.  Chisholm  turned  and  gave  him  a  good 
looking  over,  and  Tom  Mason  and  I  did  the 
same ;  and  I  was  forced  to  make  the  confes- 
sion that,  as  far  as  resemblance  went,  Bob  was 
a  long  way  off.  Henderson  was  the  very  pict- 
ure of  the  dead  and  gone  Mr.  Davenport.  He 
was  a  man  of  rather  large  size,  dressed  like  the 
Texans  that  stood  around  him  ;  and,  if  he  had 
allowed  his  whiskers  to  grow  into  a  goatee, 
instead  of  that  flowing  beard,  he  could  easily 
have  passed  himself  off  for  his  brother.  I  am 
free  to  say  that  I  didn't  know  enough  about 
law  to  know  which  way  the  property  would 
turn,  but  then  what  did  these  men  care  about 


ME.  DAVENPORT'S  POCKET-BOOK.       107 

law?  Bob's  father's  signature,  backed  up  by 
the  names  of  all  of  us,  and  witnessed  by  Bob 
himself,  would  bring  him  the  legal  right  to 
everything  he  owned.  But  there  was  one 
thing  against  Henderson  :  He  got  mad  when 
he  was  told  that  he  could  not  see  his  brother. 
Mr.  Chisholm  evidently  noticed  this  and  re- 
solved to  profit  by  it. 

4 'Well,  sir,  you  are  as  like  your  brother  as 
two  peas,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  at  length. 

"I  know  I  am,"  said  Henderson,  taking  off 
his  hat  and  turning  around  so  that  everybody 
could  see  him.  "I  haven't  seen  him  in  a 
long  time,  and  I  demand  the  right  to  see  him 
now." 

"All  right!  You  shall  have  it,"  said  Mr. 
Chisholm,  and  riding  up  close  to  the  wagon 
he  called  out:  "  Bob,  have  you  got  that 
pocket-book?" 

"  Hold  on  ! "  exclaimed  Henderson.  "That 
pocket-book  is  just  what  I  want.  There  are 
some  papers  in  it  that  relate  to  me." 

"Hand  it  out  here,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  as 
Elam  answered  in  the  affirmative  from  the 
wagon ;  and  when  his  hands  closed  upon  the 


108  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

pocket-book,  he  put  it  into  his  inside  coat. 
"Now  you  can  see  your  brother  as  soon  as 
you  please." 

"But  I  want  that  thing  you  put  inside  of 
your  coat,"  said  Mr.  Henderson,  and  I  didn't 
blame  him  for  showing  anger.  "All  my 
future  depends  on  what  you  have  there." 

"We'll  have  some  supper  first;  after  that 
you  can  all  come  here  and  we'll  listen  to 
the  different  tales  this  book  has  got  to 
tell." 

"Different  tales?"  ejaculated  Henderson. 
"There's  only  one  tale  it  can  tell,  and  that  is, 
that  all  his  property  belongs  to  me.  Who  is 
that  stranger  whom  you  allowed  to  go  inside 
the  wagon  ?  I  want  him  out  of  there  when  I 
go  in." 

" Bob  !  "  shouted  Mr.  Chisholm  ;  "have  you 
got  through  in  there  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  sobbed  Bob. 

"Why,  a  person  would  think  that  the  dead 
man  was  some  relative  of  his  !  "  said  Hender- 
son, in  surprise.  "To  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
never  saw  the  boy  before." 

"Well,   then,    come  out,"    said    Mr.    Chis- 


MR.  DAVENPORT'S  POCKET-BOOK.       109 

holm,  uBe  careful  to  look  in  all  his  pockets 
to  see  that  you  don't  miss  anything." 

Elam  and  Bob  came  out  in  obedience  to  Mr. 
Chisholm's  instructions,  and  it  was  plain  to 
everybody  standing  around  that  there  was 
no  sham  about  their  feelings.  Elani's  face 
looked  as  long  as  your  arm,  while  Bob  had 
evidently  been  crying,  and  I  took  notice  of 
the  fact  that  it  had  an  effect  upon  the  men 
standing  around.  Of  course  there  were  two 
sides  to  the  question.  Some  were  in  favor  of 
Bob,  while  others  believed  that  Henderson  had 
the  right  on  his  side  ;  and  still  others  were 
willing  to  wait  until  the  matter  had  been  thor- 
oughly investigated  before  they  inclined  to 
either  side.  It  was  a  big  jury  of  four  hun- 
dred men,  and  somehow  I  didn't  feel  at  all 
uneasy. 

"Now,  sir,  you  are  at  liberty  to  go  in  as 
soon  as  you  please,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm, 
waving  his  hand  toward  the  wagon. 

"  Yes ;  and  thanks  to  you  these  strangers 
have  got  everything  they  wanted,"  returned 
Henderson  angrily. 

"  Look  a-here,   pardner,  I  am   in  favor  of 


110  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

doing  whatever  is  right,"  said  our  leader, 
throwing  more  emphasis  into  his  words  than  I 
had  seen  him  use  before.  "  This  pocket-book 
has  two  tales  to  tell.  If  they  speak  in  your 
benefit  you  shall  have  it.  Tony,  catch  up ! 
Boys,  I  am  going  to  eat  supper  with  you 
to-night." 

Henderson  went  into  the  wagon,  the  men 
turned  away  to  hunt  their  own  wagons  and 
get  a  bite  to  eat,  and  Tony  began  his  prepara- 
tions for  supper.  Mr.  Chisholm  sat  down  on  a 
little  mound  of  grass,  rested  his  hands  upon 
his  knees,  and  looked  thoughtfully  at  the 
ground  ;  we  boys  stood  around  waiting  impa- 
tiently for  him  to  speak,  and  all  watched  for 
Henderson  to  come  out  of  the  wagon.  He 
was  gone  a  long  time,  and  during  his  stay  in 
there  he  threw  everything  about  in  the 
greatest  confusion.  He  didn't  leave  a  single 
thing  the  way  he  found  it,  and  he  was  in  so 
great  a  hurry  to  find  something  of  which  he 
was  in  search  that  our  fellows  had  to  go  to 
work  and  straighten  up  things.  I  knew  he 
wasn't  making  any  friends  by  his  uncere- 
monious conduct.  He  at  length  appeared, 


MR.  DAVENPORT'S  POCKET-BOOK.       Ill 

and,  if  his  looks  indicated  anything,  he  was 
madder  than  he  was  when  he  went  in. 

"  Things  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass,  I  must 
confess,"  said  he,  and  he  was  almost  boiling 
over  with  fury.  "I  must  wait  the  pleasure 
of  strangers,  till  they  get  ready  to  let  me  have 
my  brother's  things  !  What  kind  of  a  law  do 
you  call  that?" 

"It's  the  law  in  this  State,  whatever  it  may 
be  elsewhere,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm. 

"Upon  my  word,  I  never  saw  this  boy 
before,"  continued  Henderson.  "He  is  some 
little  upstart  that  my  brother  has  seen  since 
he  came  to  Texas.  He  wouldn't  have  adopted 
anything  like  him,  anyway." 

"  Why,  Clifford  Henderson,  I  know  you," 
said  Bob.  "I  remember  when  I  used  to  see 
you  in  St.  Louis ' 

"You  never  saw  me  before  in  your  life," 
returned  Henderson,  with  a  scowl  on  his  fore- 
head that  might  have  made  Bob  tremble  if 
he  had  been  alone.  "And  I  never  saw  you 
before." 

"Easy,  easy!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Chisholm 
soothingly.  "It  will  all  come  out  when  we 


112  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

have  had  our  supper.  Until  then  just  rest  in 
peace." 

Henderston  started  off  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  would  have  snatched  things  bald-headed 
if  he  had  only  possessed  the  opportunity,  and 
when  he  was  well  out  of  hearing  Mr.  Chis- 
holm  continued : 

"Bob,  you  want  to  keep  mum  and  answer 
such  questions  as  I  shall  ask  you  by  and  by. 
These  boys  have  all  signed  the  will  in  your 
favor?  Well,  that's  enough.  Let's  see  him 
get  around  that." 

"But  I  can't  help  thinking  that  he  has 
got  something  back  of  it,"  said  Bob,  be- 
tween his  sobs.  "He  goes  about  it  so  con- 
fidently that  I  am  really  afraid  of  him.  He 
denies  that  he  ever  saw  me." 

"Of  course.  That's  to  be  expected.  But 
you  are  sure  that  you  have  seen  him  before  ? " 

"Why,  I  knew  him  the  minute  I  put  my 
eyes  on  him,"  said  Bob,  looking  up.  "He 
was  always  the  very  picture  of  my  father, 
and  if  father  had  wanted  his  property  to  go  to 
him  he  would  have  said  so.  He  would  have 
told  you  so,  Mr.  Chisholm,  while  you  were 


ME.  DAVENPORT'S  POCKET-BOOK.       113 

sitting  on  the  porch  listening  to  Ms  story. 
He  would  have  told  these  boys  so  while  he  was 
telling  them  the  history  of  the  pocket-book." 

"  Well,  take  it  easy.  Things  will  come  out 
all  right  in  the  end."  . 

There  was  silence  around  that  camp  fire 
while  we  were  eating  supper,  until  Frank, 
the  cowboy,  came  in  and  sauntered  up  for  his 
share  of  it.  He  was  evidently  big  with  news, 
for  when  he  had  helped  himself  to  a  plateful 
and  began  looking  around  for  a  place  to  sit 
down,  he  said  : 

"  Henderson's  got  something  that  didn't 
belong  to  him.  He' s  been  searching  that  body. 
He  has  got  a  hundred  dollars  in  cash." 

"  What  did  he  say?"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Chisholm. 

"  I  say,  he's  got  a  hundred  dollars  in  cash 
that  he  is  going  to  put  in  his  pocket  and  keep 
there.  He  says  he  found  it  in  the  wagon, 
and  don't  mean  to  let  anybody  take  it 
away  from  him." 

"  We'll  see  about  that,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm. 
"  The  money  has  got  to  go  where  the  pocket- 
book  goes." 
8 


114  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

After  that  there  was  more  silence  until  we 
had  all  finished  our  suppers,  and  got  our 
pipes  out,  and  then  the  men  began  to  stroll  in 
one  after  the  other.  I  noticed,  too,  that  almost 
all  the  cowboys,  some  of  the  farmers,  and  a 
good  many  of  the  Rangers  appeared  to  side 
with  Mr.  Chisholm,  for  they  took  particular 
pains  to  place  themselves  pretty  close  to  him. 
Henderson  was  one  of  the  first  to  appear,  and 
when  he  seated  himself  on  a  log  opposite  our 
leader,  he  must  have  been  surprised  at  the 
meagre  showing  he  had. 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  knocking 
the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  "  we  are  all  here,  are 
we?  If  you  know  of  anybody  that's  back 
send  'em  on,  for  we  want  this  thing  done  up  in 
order.  I'll  appoint  you  all  as  jurymen,  and 
we'll  show  some  people  out  there  in  the  settle- 
ments that  we  can  do  some  things  as  well  as 
they  can.  The  first  thing  that  is  done  when  a 
man  dies  is  to  read  his  will ;  but  first  I  must 
have  every  article  that  belongs  to  him.  You 
know  it  all  goes  where  the  will  goes,  don't 
you?" 

Of  course  that  was   settled.      All  the  boys 


MR.  DAVENPORT'S  POCKET-BOOK.       115 

standing  around  agreed  to  that.  But  Mr. 
Chisholm  wasn't  satisfied.  He  put  it  to  a 
vote,  and  such  a  sonorous  "Aye!"  as  re- 
sounded through  that  grove  of  willows  was 
never  heard  there  before. 

"I  have  no  business  to  act  as  judge,  but  I 
know  a  story  which  may  fit  well  into  the 
case,"  Mr.  Chisholm  hastened  to  explain, 
"and  consequently  I  shall  put  everything  to 
a  vote.  It's  settled,  then,  that  I  must  have 
every  article  that  belongs  to  Mr.  Davenport. 
Henderson,  I'll  thank  you  to  hand  over  that 
hundred  dollars." 

"What  hundred  dollars?"  enquired  the 
man  ;  but  a  person  could  see  that  he  was 
slightly  uneasy.  He  did  not  like  Mr.  Chis- 
holm's  way  of  talking. 

"The  hundred  dollars  you  got  while  you 
were  in  the  wagon,"  returned  Mr.  Chisholm. 
"You  done  something  when  you  were  in  the 
wagon  that  you  had  no  business  to  do.  You 
searched  the  body." 

"Well,  I  did  it  because  I  thought  he  had 
some  papers  about  him  that  I  had  more  busi- 
ness with  than  anybody  else,"  said  Henderson; 


116  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

and  when  he  uttered  the  words  he  looked  at 
Mr.  Chisholm  as  if  to  ask  him  what  he  was 
going  to  do  about  it.  u  I  knew  I  couldn't  get 
them  while  a  stranger  was  about." 

The  man  must  have  been  crazy  to  talk  this 
way  in  the  presence  of  four  hundred  men  who 
were  assembled  as  a  jury  to  try  his  rights  of 
property.  He  was  making  enemies  fast.  I 
knew  that  around  his  camp  fire  he  had  talked 
to  fellows  who  were  gathered  there  until  he 
had  brought  them  to  his  own  way  of  thinking  ; 
but  they  didn't  suppose  that  he  was  going  to 
act  the  dunce  at  the  first  opportunity. 

"  You  say  you  won't  hand  them  out  ?  "  en- 
quired Mr.  Chisholm,  and  anybody  could  see 
that  he  was  getting  mad. 

"No,  I  won't!    The  money  is  mine  !" 

"  Hand  'em  out  here ! "  roared  Mr.  Chisholm. 

"I  tell  you  I  won't  do  it.  It  belongs  to 
me!" 

Our  leader  was  a  man  who  would  not  take 
this  for  an  answer.  He  slowly  and  delib- 
erately arose  to  his  feet,  the  cowboys,  espe- 
cially his  own  and  Mr.  Davenport's,  drawing 
nearer  to  him,  and  when  he  got  up  the  shining 


ME.  DAVENPORT'S  POCKET  BOOK.       117 

barrel  of  a  six-shooter  was  looking  Henderson 
squarely  in  the  face.  The  man  turned  pale 
and  stepped  back.  He  gazed  around  at  the 
cowboys,  but  none  seemed  ready  to  help  him. 
On  the  contrary,  they  all  folded  their  arms, 
and  that  was  as  good  a  sign  as  he  wanted. 

"What  kind  of  a  law  do  you  call  this?" 
said  Henderson,  putting  his  hand  into  his 
pocket.  "  If  I  had  a  pack  of  Comanches  to 
decide  for  me  I  would  stand  just  as  much 
show." 

"  Well,  it  is  the  law  here,  and  you  are  a  fool 
for  bucking  against  it,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  as 
the  money  was  placed  in  his  hands.  It  was 
a  large  pile  of  money  to  contain  one  hun- 
dred dollars,  and  I  was  glad  to  see  that  he 
spoke  about  it.  "Judging  by  the  contents 
of  your  pocket  you  got  rather  more  than  a 
hundred  dollars  while  you  were  about  it,"  he 
added,  with  a  smile.  "  So  far  so  good  !  Now 
the  next  thing  is  the  reading  of  the  will." 

Mr.  Chisholm,  who  was  the  coolest  man  I 
ever  saw  to  pass  through  such  an  ordeal, 
seated  himself  on  the  grass  hummock  again, 
and  produced  the  pocket-book  from  inside 


118  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

his  coat.  He  opened  it  and  laid  it  upon  his 
knee,  and  of  course  we  all  strained  our  necks 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  it.  The  first  thing  that 
came  into  view  was  a  little  pile  of  letters, 
all  endorsed,  and  confined  by  a  rubber  band 
such  as  business  men  use  to  keep  their  cor- 
respondence in  one  place.  Mr.  Chisholm 
pulled  the  topmost  one  out  and  looked  at  it. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TOM  HAS  AN   IDEA. 

first  thing  I  have  struck  here  is  a 

JL  receipt  for  $23.40  paid  to  Lemuel  Bail- 
ley,  dated  October  23,  18—.  Why,  that's  a 
long  time  before  the  drought  came,"  said  Mr. 
Chisholm,  looking  up.  "  Is  Bailley  here  ? " 

"Here,  sir,"  responded  Bailley,  who  was 
one  of  Mr.  Davenport's  cowboys.  "  I  remem- 
ber of  giving  Mr.  Davenport  that  receipt.  I 
wanted  it  to — to " 

"Go  on  a  spree  with,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Chisholm.  "Well,  you  got  it,  didn't  you? 
The  next  is  also  a  receipt.  And  so  is  the  next 
one,  and  the  next  one.  In  fact  I  don't  see 
anything  but  receipts  here." 

Mr.  Chisholm  continued  to  call  out  the 
names  of  the  payees  of  the  receipts,  some  con- 
taining money  paid  to  the  cowboys,  some 
relating  to  supplies  of  various  kinds  pur- 
chased at  the  store,  handing  each  one  to 

119 


120  THE  MISSING-  POCKET-BOOK. 

some  man  who  stood  near  him  to  see  if  he 
was  right,  until  he  had  but  few  papers  left  in 
the  bundle.  The  longer  he  read  the  more 
astonished  he  became,  until  finally  he  turned 
the  pocket-book  upside  down  to  show  that  it 
was  empty. 

"That's  all,"  said  he.  "There  is  nothing 
but  receipts  in  it.  What  is  your  pleasure 
with  the  pocket-book  ?  Shall  it  go  to  this 
man  who  has  not  grieved  any  over  Mr.  Daven- 
port's death— 

"I  don't  want  it,"  said  Henderson,  who 
was  paler  now  than  when  he  was  looking  into 
Mr.  Chisholm's  six-shooter.  "The  pocket- 
book  I  wanted  contains  papers  that  relate  to 
me.  I  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the 
receipts." 

"  Or  shall  it  go  to  the  boy  who  has  done 
nothing  but  mourn  for  him  ever  since  he  was 
brought  in?"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  paying  no 
heed  to  the  interruption.  "  Of  course  the 
money  goes  with  it." 

"Now  you're  talking,"  said  Henderson, 
brightening  a  little.  "Give  me  the  money 
and  let  this  boy  have  the  pocket-book.  It's 


TOM  HAS   AN   IDEA.  121 

mine,  and  I  don't  see  why  you  should  want  to 
keep  it  from  me." 

"And  you  say  you  never  saw  this  boy 
before?"  said  Mr.  Chisholm. 

"Never  in  my  life,"  returned  Henderson. 
"  When  I  saw  that  boy  come  by  me  and  go 
into  the  wagon  I  was  dumfounded." 

"  Bob,  you  say  you  have  seen  this  man 
before?" 

"I  used  to  see  him  every  day  in  St.  Louis," 
replied  Bob,  who  was  very  much  cast  down. 
"He  used  to  live  at  our  house." 

"He  is  very  much  mistaken.  He  never 
saw  me.  I  have  never  been  in  St.  Louis  in 
my  life." 

"Seeing  that  Henderson  is  next  of  kin," 
said  one  of  the  farmers,  stepping  forward,  "I 
think  the  money  ought  to  go  to  him." 

"And  the  pocket-book  to  Bob?"  added 
Mr.  Chisholm. 

"  Why,  in  course.     I  think  so." 

"  Is  that  in  form  of  a  resolution  ? " 

"Well,  yes." 

"  Can  I  get  a  second  to  it  1 " 

The  answer  that  came  up  from  four  hun- 


122  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

dred  throats  was  enough  to  show  Bob  that  all 
his  hopes  of  winning  the  money  was  gone, 
even  before  the  motion  was  put ;  but  put  it 
was,  and  it  was  carried  unanimously. 

"Now  all  opposed  say  'No'  !"  said  Mr. 
Chisholm. 

There  was  no  one  at  all  who  answered. 
Those  who  didn't  vote  wanted  to  think  the 
matter  over  before  giving  their  decision.  Mr. 
Chisholm  had  placed  his  hand  in  his  pocket 
and  brought  out  the  roll  of  bills,  which  he 
gave  to  Henderson,  and  at  the  same  time  he 
laid  the  pocket-book  on  Bob's  knee.  The 
latter' s  hands  closed  about  it  as  though  it  had 
contained  the  will  he  had  expected  to  find 
there.  He  didn'  t  care  a  cent  for  the  money — 
he  would  have  given  it  all  to  have  his  father 
back  to  him,  but  the  pocket-book  was  some- 
thing that  Mr.  Davenport  had  handled.  He 
would  cherish  it  as  long  as  he  lived. 

"  There's  somebody  in  camp  who  has  re- 
moved that  pocket-book  that  I  wanted  to 
see,"  said  Henderson,  as  he  clutched  the  bills 
and  thrust  them  into  his  pocket.  "I  know 
my  brother  well  enough  to  understand  his 


TOM  HAS  AN   IDEA.  123 

business,  and  when  he  saw  his  end  coming  he 
didn't  let  the  matter  drop  here.  He  has  got  a 
will  somewhere." 

"Lena  !  Frank  !  "  shouted  Mr.  Chisholm. 

The  two  cowboys  instantly  stepped  forward. 

"  You  were  the  first  to  get  to  Mr.  Daven- 
port when  he  fell  off  his  horse?"  continued 
our  leader. 

"  We  were,"  answered  the  two  cowboys,  in 
concert. 

"Did  you  watch  carefully  to  see  that  no- 
body else  touched  him?" 

"Yes,  sir,  we  did.  We  knew  he  had  that 
pocket-book." 

"  Was  the  guard  that  was  placed  over  him 
a  reliable  person? " 

"There's  none  better.  Mebbe  you'll  say 
we  took  it !  "  said  Frank,  seeing  that  Hender- 
son gazed  at  him  with  a  smile  of  disbelief  on 
his  face.  "You  say  that  once  an'  you  won't 
say  it  again! " 

"I  am  not  saying  anybody  took  it," 
said  Henderson.  "I  am  simply  saying  that 
it  is  gone.  Anybody  can  say  that,  I  sup- 
pose?" 


124  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  say  what  you  had  on  your 
mind  an'  see  how  you  will  come  out !  We 
know  a  story  worth  a  dozen  of  yours." 

"  Easy,  easy  !  "  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  catching 
Frank  by  the  arm.  "This  matter  is  settled 
for  the  time  being.  Now  we  will  go  to  bed 
and  sleep  on  it.  Maybe  it  will  look  different 
to  us  in  the  morning." 

Mr.  Chisholm  filled  his  pipe  with  great 
deliberation,  and  the  four  hundred  men  who 
had  stood  around  to  settle  the  case,  taking  it 
for'granted  that  the  court  had  adjourned  until 
more  evidence  could  be  obtained,  strolled  off 
to  their  own  camps.  I  was  glad  to  see  that 
very  few  of  them  went  with  Henderson.  Al- 
though they  had  decided  in  his  favor,  giving 
him  the  money  and  Bob  the  receipts,  some- 
how they  didn't  feel  right  about  it.  But  the 
question  was,  where  was  the  will  ? 

"  Of  all  the  mean,  sneaking  courts  that  ever 
I  heard  of "  began  Frank. 

"Now,  Frank,  that  will  do,"  said  Lem, 
taking  him  by  the  arm  and  leading  him  away. 
"I  know  what  you  want  to  say,  and  when- 
ever you  get  to  talkin'  you  let  out  some  swear 


TOM   HAS   AN   IDEA.  125 

words  that  don't  sound  well.     Mr.  Chisholm 
is  bossin'  this  thing." 

"  But  he  never  asked  us  to  tell  our  story," 
continued  Frank.  "  We  uns  could  have 
knocked  that  fellow's  case  higher  than  the 
moon." 

"  An'  he  never  told  his  own,"  said  Elam. 

"What  good  would  it  have  done  to  tell 
everything  we  knew  when  there  was  no  will 
to  back  it  up?"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  throwing 
back  a  brand  upon  the  fire  with  which  he  had 
lighted  his  pipe.  "  When  we  get  the  will 
we'll  talk  to  him.  Bob,  did  you  ever  know 
your  father  to  have  two  pocket-books  like  the 
one  you  have  got  in  your  clothes  ? " 

"No,  sir.  I  never  saw  him  have  but  the 
one,"  said  Bob,  taking  out  the  pocket-book  and 
looking  at  it.  "The  man  has  got  everything 
father  owned.  But,  believe  me,  I  don't  care 
for  that.  I  am  young  and  can  easily  make  a 
living." 

Mr.  Chisholm  drew  his  hand  hastily  across 
his  eyes,  as  I  had  seen  him  do  before,  and 
started  off  for  his  own  camp,  while  the  rest  of 
us  sat  down  to  think  the  matter  over.  I  never 


126  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

saw  men  and  boys  so  completely  done  up  as 
we  were,  who  were  sitting  around  that  fire, 
and  1  will  venture  to  say  that  Bob  thought 
less  about  the  money  than  we  did.  He  had 
been  brought  up  in  the  belief  that  it  was  all 
his  own,  and  now  he  had  lost  it.  I  tell  you  I 
felt  sorry  for  him.  He  sat  gazing  into  the  fire 
for  a  short  time,  then  spoke  a  few  words  to 
Elam,  who  went  off  and  returned  with  his 
blankets.  He  made  up  a  bed  under  the 
wagon  and  laid  down  there  with  Bob.  Tom 
Mason  was  the  second  one  who  was  badly  per- 
plexed. He  would  gaze  steadily  into  the  fire, 
as  if  he  there  hoped  to  find  a  solution  to  some 
problem  he  was  working  out  in  his  mind,  and 
then  at  me,  moving  his  lips,  as  he  always  did 
when  anything  troubled  him,  and  finally  he 
arose  and  gave  me  a  nod,  which  I  readily 
understood.  I  followed  him  through  the 
willows,  and  finally  stood  on  the  edge  of  the 
prairie,  where  the  cattle,  having  got  their  fill 
of  the  water,  were  lying  down.  There  were 
no  sentries  out  to-night.  A  stampede  was  the 
last  thing  we  had  to  fear. 

"Say,  Carlos,  did  you  hear  what  Mr.  Chis- 


TOM   HAS   AN   IDEA.  127 

holm  had  to  say  to  Bob  about  his  father  having 
another  pocket-book  like  the  one  he  had  in 
his  clothes?"  he  whispered,  after  looking  all 
around  to  make  sure  that  there  was  no  one 
within  hearing.  "Now,  it  has  just  occurred 
to  me  that  perhaps  there  is  another  one,  and 
that  Mr.  Davenport  put  it  into  his  pocket." 

"  But  Bob  says  there  isn't  any  other,"  said 
I,  jumping  at  the  conclusion.  That  very 
same  thing  had  been  running  in  my  own 
mind,  and  I  was  anxious  to  hear  what  Tom 
thought  about  it.  "It  looks  like  the  pocket- 
book  that  he  slammed  in  his  hands  when  he 
told  us  his  story." 

"That  may  be;  but  I  tell  you  he  has  got 
another,"  said  Tom  earnestly.  "The  other 
one  is  hidden  somewhere  about  the  house." 

"I  wish  I  was  as  certain  of  it  as  you  are," 
said  I. 

"  Well,  now,  the  only  way  we  can  find  out 
is  to  go  there  and  give  everything  a  good 
overhauling,  when  there  is  nobody  there  to 
prevent  us,"  said  Tom. 

"Don't  you  suppose  that  Henderson  has 
thought  of  that  already?" 


128  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

"Let  him.  Who  cares?  We  will  go  there 
and  give  things  another  examination  after  he 
has  Jeft.  I  tell  you,  Carlos,  it  is  our  only 
chance,"  insisted  Tom.  "And  with  that 
pocket-book  in  our  hands  we  can  carry  the 
day,  I  bet  you." 

"Do  you  mean  to  go  without  letting  any- 
body know  it? " 

"Certainly.  Henderson  will  wake  up  and 
find  Bob  here,  and  that  is  all  he  cares  for.  I 
don't  suppose  he  has  taken  a  single  glance  at 
us.  Will  you  go?" 

"We'll  have  to  see  Mr.  Chisholm  first." 

"Exactly.  I  don't  imagine  that  our  horses 
can  stand  the  trip " 

"They've  got  to  stand  it,"  said  I,  for  Tom 
was  so  anxious  about  the  matter  that  I  began 
to  feel  some  of  his  enthusiasm.  "  If  Mr. 
Chisholm  thinks  it  safe  I  will  go.  But,  Tom, 
we  have  men  to  deal  with  who  are  just  as  cun- 
ning as  we  are.  I'll  bet  you  that  we  find  that 
ranch  overhauled  when  we  get  there." 

"They  can't  travel  faster  than  we  can," 
said  Tom  confidently. 

"  Yes,   they  can.     They   are    working    for 


TOM  HAS   AN  IDEA.  129 

money  now,  and  they  will  travel  night  and 
day." 

"  WeJff  let's  go  and  see  Mr.  Chisholm. 
We  can't  do  anything  as  long  as  we  stand 
talking  here.  I  don't  know  where  his  camp 
is  ;  do  you  ?" 

No,  I  didn't  know  where  the  camp  was,  but 
that  made  no  difference  to  me.  The  only  way 
I  could  find  it  was  to  look  for  it,  and  that  I 
proceeded  to  do,  leaving  Tom  outside  on  the 
prairie.  We  walked  along  the  edge  of  the 
willows  until  we  saw  a  light  shining  through 
them,  and  then  I  walked  in.  It  proved  to  be 
Mr.  Chisholm' s  camp.  There  were  a  dozen 
men  standing  around  in  little  groups  talking 
about  the  incidents  of  Mr.  Davenport's  death, 
and  a  little  apart  from  all  of  them  sat  Mr. 
Chisholm,  smoking,  as  usual. 

"I  guess  Henderson  didn't  feel  very  good 
over  the  decision  we  reached,  giving  him  the 
money  and  Bob  the  receipts,"  said  one  of  the 
men.  "Five  hundred  dollars  is  what  he  got, 
and  that  aint  nothing  to  him.  Where  did  he 
come  from,  anyhow?" 

uHe's  a  speculator,"  said  another.     "He 


130  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

don't  do  anything,  but  just  buys  and  sells 
cattle.  He's  got  a  nice  little  thing  in  having 
Mr.  Davenport's  cattle,  if  they  were  only  in 
good  trim." 

"But  that  aint  what  he  wants,"  said  a 
third.  "Mr.  Davenport  has  got  some  money 
somewhere  in  some  bank  or  another,  and  he 
wants  authority  to  draw  it  out." 

That  was  all  I  wanted  to  hear,  so  I  stepped 
up  to  Mr.  Chisholm  and  gave  him  a  friendly 
nudge.  Then  I  walked  off  to  the  place  where 
I  had  left  Tom  Mason,  and  he  followed  along 
after  me.  I  could  see  that  he  was  very  much 
depressed,  so  after  he  had  gone  a  short  dis- 
tance out  of  hearing  of  the  men  who  stood  at 
the  fire,  I  said  : 

"Mr.  Chisholm,  Tom  Mason  thinks  there  is 
another  pocket  book." 

"There  now,"  said  he,  and  he  stopped  as 
suddenly  as  though  I  had  aimed  a  blow  at 
him.  "That  thing  has  been  running  in  my 
head,  too.  But  what  made  Tom  think  of  it?" 

"Here  he  is,  and  he  can  explain  the  matter 
for  himself,"  I  answered.  "Now,  Tom,  give 
it  to  Mr.  Chisholm  just  as  you  gave  it  to  me." 


TOM   HAS  AN  IDEA.  131 

It  did  not  take  Tom  long  to  do  that.  Tom 
was  a  good  talker  when  he  had  anything  on 
his  mind,  and  he  had  Mr.  Chisholm  with  him 
from  the  start.  The  man  listened  intently 
until  he  got  through,  and  then  gave  Tom  a 
slap  on  the  back  that  I  thought  would  have 
driven  him  into  the  ground. 

"Them's  the  very  points  that  I  have  been 
running  over  in  my  own  head  ever  since  the 
court  adjourned,"  said  he  gleefully.  "Now, 
how  are  you  going  to  work  it?  Do  you 
intend  to  go  off  without  letting  anybody  know 
it  ?  Remember  that  you  have  got  some  men 
to  deal  with  that  are  just  as  smart  as  you  are. 
There's  something  about  that  Henderson  that 
I  don't  like  any  too  well." 

"That  is  just  what  we  intend  to  do," 
replied  Tom.  "From  some  things  I  have 
heard  of  the  man  I  don't  like  him  too  well 
myself,  and  we  can  get  to  the  house  and  give 
the  things  a  thorough  overhauling  before  he 
gets  there.  If  we  can  find  the  pocket-book 
we'll  come  back  and  tell  you  of  it,  and  all  you 
will  have  to  do  will  be  to  go  to  that  bank  and 
stop  the  money." 


132  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"But  I  don't  know  where  the  bank  is," 
said  Mr.  Chisholra.  "That's  what's  bother- 
ing of  me  now.  It  may  be  some  bank  in  St. 
Louis." 

That  was  a  set-back  that  Tom  hadn't 
thought  of.  He  looked  at  me  and  then 
looked  down  at  the  ground. 

"Never  mind.  You  go  on  up  to  the  house 
and  search  high  and  low  for  that  i>ocket- 
book.  Don't  leave  a  stone  unturned  that  one 
can  hide  a  pocket-book  under,  and  when  you 
get  through  come  back  and  tell  me  what  luck 
you  have  had.  I  guess  if  anybody  can  find  it 
you  can." 

"I  think  so  too,  Mr.  Chisholm,"  said  I. 
"Tom's  the  luckiest  fellow  I  ever  saw.  He 
found  the  nugget  when  we  had  almost  given 
up  the  search." 

"The  nugget?"  repeated  Mr.  Chisholm. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  the  one  that  Elam  Storm  lost 
fourteen  years  ago.  He  knew  it  was  around 
there  somewhere,  but  no  one  could  tell  him 
where  it  was.  Tom  in  poking  around  and  fol- 
lowing what  he  considered  to  be  a  blind  trail, 
stumbled  onto  it." 


TOM  HAS   AN  IDEA.  133 

"Why,  I  didn't  hear  anything  about 
that,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  casting  a  glance  of 
admiration  upon  Tom.  "  Was  there  much 
into  it?" 

"It  was  as  big  as  he  could  lift,"  I  replied. 
"  Elam  has  got  the  most  of  it  in  a  belt  under 
his  clothes.  We  came  here  to  buy  cattle,  you 
know." 

"Well,  I  must  hear  all  about  that  some 
day.  Now  you  go  and  hunt  for  that  pocket- 
book,  and  don't  you  come  back  without  it. 
Take  plenty  of  grub  along  so  that  you  will 
have  something  to  eat,  for  if  you  don't  you 
will  be  up  stump.  Good-by,  and  good  luck 
to  you!" 

Mr.  Chisholm  turned  about  and  walked  into 
the  willows,  and  Tom  and  I  stood  and  looked 
at  each  other.  He  had  wished  us  good  luck 
the  same  as  if  we  were  going  on  a  day's  jour- 
ney, and  yet  it  would  take  us  a  week  to  go 
back  to  the  ranch,  and  another  week  to  get 
back  to  camp,  to  say  nothing  of  the  difficulties 
we  would  meet  on  the  way.  I  didn't  mind  it 
in  the  least,  but  I  saw  that  Tom  didn't  know 
what  to  think  about  it.  When  he  got  into  a 


134  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

place  that  lie  could  not  think  his  way  out  of, 
he  turned  to  me. 

"  Is  that  all  he  has  to  say  to  us?" 
asked  Tom. 

"What  more  do  you  want?"  I  enquired. 
"He  has  bid  us  good-by  and  told  us  to  take 
plenty  of  provisions  along,  and  that's  about 
all  he  can  do.  Now,  Tom,  can  you  saddle 
our  horses  without  arousing  anybody  ?  If 
you  can,  I  will  go  to  the  wagon  and  get 
some  grub." 

Yes,  Tom  could  do  that,  and  he  started  off 
at  once  to  carry  out  his  part  of  the  pro- 
gramme. The  horses  were  hitched  in  the 
outer  edge  of  the  willows,  and  consequently 
he  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  make  two  trips 
to  the  fire  after  our  saddles  and  weapons  ; 
while  I  had  to  work  in  the  presence  of  every- 
body, and  there  were  two  men  around  our 
camp  fire  that  I  did  not  want  to  know  any- 
thing about  it.  They  may  have  been  all 
right,  but  Mr.  Davenport  had  not  taken  them 
into  his  confidence  and  that  made  me  sus- 
picious of  them.  When  I  got  within  reach  of 
the  circle  of  light  thrown  out  by  our  camp 


TOM   HAS   AN   IDEA.  135 

fire  I  moved  with  cautious  footsteps,  for  Elam 
and  Bob  were  sleeping  under  the  wagon,  and 
threw  aside  the  canvas  covering  before  I 
stepped  in.  Merciful  Heavens,  what  a  sight 
there  was  presented  to  my  gaze  !  Everything 
in  the  wagon  had  been  pawed  over,  and  fur- 
thermore, some  of  the  things  had  been  thrown 
upon  the  body  of  Mr.  Davenport.  It  was 
some  of  that  Henderson's  work,  and  showed 
how  badly  he  felt  over  the  death  of  his 
brother  !  If  I  had  been  in  the  humor  to  do  it 
I  could  have  had  some  shooting  done  in  that 
camp  inside  of  five  minutes,  but  instead  of 
that  I  sprang  into  the  wagon  and  removed 
the  articles  of  desecration,  and  placed  the 
blanket  evenly  over  the  figure  as  it  was 
before. 

"This  is  one  thing  I  shall  always  blame 
myself  for,"  said  I,  under  my  breath.  "I 
ought  to  have  brought  Mr.  Chisholm  here 
at  once,  and  showed  him  what  that  man  is 
capable  of  doing.  I  believe  I  could  have 
turned  the  tables  in  short  order  without  the 
long  ride  that  is  before  me." 

So  filled  with  rage  that  I  could  hardly  see, 


136  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

I  proceeded  to  select  the  grub  that  was  to  do 
Tom  and  me  during  our  ride  to  Mr.  Daven- 
port's ranch  and  back:  two  slices  of  bacon 
and  a  bag  to  put  them  in,  some  meal,  and  a 
little  salt.  That  was  all  we  took  with  us.  I 
lowered  them  to  the  ground  and  was  about 
to  follow  them,  when  I  saw  that  Frank  was 
awake  and  looking  at  me.  Placing  my  finger 
upon  my  lips  I  walked  over  and  talked  to  him. 

"  Where  are  you  fellows  going  ? "  he  asked, 
in  his  ordinary  tone  of  voice.  "One  would 
think  you  were  going  to  skip  the  camp." 

"And  so  we  are,"  I  replied,  in  a  whisper. 
"Tom  Mason  and  I  are  going  after  the  miss- 
ing pocket-book." 

"Carlos,"  said  he,  in  the  same  cautious 
whisper,  "your  head  is  level.  I  tell  you  that 
man  has  a  pocket-book " 

"  I  know  he  has,  and  we  are  going  after  it," 
said  I,  anxious  to  bring  the  interview  to  a 
close  as  soon  as  possible.  "  If  we  are  missed 
don't  you  say  one  word.  I  say,  Frank,  that 
Henderson  is  a  mighty  mean  chap.  When  he 
went  into  the  wagon  looking  for  the  pocket- 
book  he  threw  the  things  all  about.  He 


TOM   HAS  AN  IDEA.  137 

didn'  t  even  take  pains  to  see  that  they  went 
on  the  floor,  either." 

"  The  blamed  skunk  !  "  said  Frank,  raising 
himself  on  his  elbow.  "You  don't  mean  to 
say  that  he  threw  them  on " 

"Yes,  I  do.  He  threw  them  all  over  him. 
But  it  is  too  late  to  remedy  the  matter  now. 
I  put  them  off  where  they  belong,  and  I  only 
tell  you  this  so  that  you  can  make  him  shut 
his  mouth  if  he  begins  working  his  chin  too 
much  to-morrow." 

"Dog-gone  you!  why  didn't  you  tell  me 
before  you  touched  the  things  ?  I  would  have 
made  him  take  them  off  himself.  Well,  good 
luck  to  you  !  Look  everywhere  for  that 
pocket-book." 

If  Tom  had  been  there  he  wouldn't  have 
found  any  fault  with  Frank's  parting,  for  he 
threw  into  his  grip  all  the  strength  that  a 
strong  man  could.  After  I  had  received  the 
assurance  that  he  wouldn't  notice  our  absence 
on  the  morrow,  I  gathered  up  the  provisions 
and  started  for  the  prairie.  Tom  was  already 
there,  and  he  was  holding  by  the  bridle  the 
two  horses  which  he  had  saddled,  and  our 


138  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

weapons  laid  beside  him  on  the  ground. 
When  I  told  him  what  work  Henderson 
had  made  in  the  wagon  he  was  utterly 
dumfounded. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  somebody  of  it  ? "  he 
asked. 

"Because  I  put  the  things  back  where  they 
belong,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  you  ought  not  to  have  done  it. 
That  would  have  made  me  mad  enough  for 
anything." 

"Well,  keep  still,  and  let  us  mount  our 
horses  and  go  on.  You  can  say  more  about  it 
when  we  get  further  away." 

By  this  time  I  had  given  him  some  of  the 
provisions,  which  I  saw  him  fasten  behind  his 
saddle.  I  did  the  same  with  the  others,  and 
when  I  had  gathered  up  my  weapons  we 
mounted  and  rode  away  into  the  darkness.  I 
was  satisfied  that  no  one  but  Mr.  Chisholm 
and  Frank  knew  of  our  absence. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
TOM'S  LUCK. 

~T~T  was  just  such  a  night  as  you  would  take 
JL  if  you  wanted  to  go  a-fishing.  The  moon 
shone  down  on  us  through  a  thick  haze,  such 
as  we  had  seen  many  a  night  since  our  arrival 
on  the  prairie,  and  every  little  sound  that 
broke  the  stillness  could  be  heard  a  long  way 
off.  We  could  distinctly  hear  the  Rangers 
talking,  and  their  camp  was  on  the  other  side 
of  Trinity.  Everything  that  approached  us 
on  the  plains — even  the  cattle,  which,  having 
had  a  rest  after  their  drink,  were  beginning  to 
crop  the  grass— loomed  up  on  us  to  twice 
its  natural  size,  and  everything  betokened 
rain ;  but  we  had  seen  so  many  such  nights 
as  that  in  Texas  that  we  never  gave  it  a 
moment's  thought.  We  walked  our  horses 
until  we  could  no  longer  hear  the  Rangers 
talking,  and  then  put  them  to  a  little  faster 
gait. 

189 


140  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"  I  can't  get  over  the  way  that  man  Hen- 
derson has  acted,"  said  Tom.  "It  seems  to 
me  that  you  ought  to  have  told  somebody 
of  it." 

"  How  many  men  did  you  ever  see  killed  in 
a  fair,  stand-up  fight? "  I  asked. 

"  None,  I  am  glad  to  say." 

"I  have,  and  that's  the  reason  I  didn't  tell 
anybody  what  I  saw.  Henderson  wouldn't 
have  been  alive  now." 

"I  guess,  after  all,  you  did  for  the  best," 
added  Tom  ;  "but  I  would  have  been  too  mad 
to  take  a  second  thought.  How  do  you  sup- 
pose Henderson  knew  that  his  brother  was 
with  this  outfit?" 

I  replied  that  he  didn'  t  know  it  at  all.  He 
was  only  a  speculator,  and  when  the  Rangers 
were  ordered  out  to  preserve  the  peace  he 
came  out  with  them,  to  see  if  he  could  find 
something  that  was  worth  buying. 

"And  if  we  don't  find  the  will  he's  got  a 
fine  lot  now,"  I  said.  "Just  think  of  the 
eight  or  nine  thousand  head  of  cattle  he  got 
from  Mr.  Davenport.  Now  that  he  has  got 
them  here  he  can  sell  them  for  five  dollars  a 


TOM'S  LUCK.  141 

head,  easy  enough  That  will  be  more  than 
enough  to  put  him  on  his  feet." 

"  But  I  tell  you  that  will  is  going  to  spoil 
his  kettle  of  fish!"  answered  Tom,  as  confi- 
dently as  though  he  had  the  document  in  his 
pocket.  "You  will  see  that  we  will  have  it 
in  our  hands  when  we  come  back  this  way." 

I  wished  then  that  I  felt  as  confident  of  it 
as  Tom  did,  but  somehow  I  saw  too  many 
difficulties  in  the  way.  In  the  first  place, 
there  was  Henderson,  who  wouldn't  believe 
that  that  pocket-book  was  the  only  one  Mr. 
Davenport  had,  and  would  be  equally  certain 
to  send  someone  to  the  ranch  to  look  for  it. 
And  if  he  found  it,  I  wasn't  sure  that  we 
could  get  it  away  from  him.  When  a  man 
pulls  a  loaded  gun  on  you  and  tells  you  to 
stand  where  you  are,  you  had  better  stand. 
Then,  again,  there  was  the  invalid,  with  all 
his  eccentricities  of  hiding  things  where  no 
one  would  ever  think  of  looking  for  them  ;  in 
fact,  I  didn't  believe  he  could  have  found  it 
himself  if  he  had  been  going  to  the  ranch 
with  us.  Taking  these  two  things  into  con- 
sideration, I  thought  we  had  undertaken 


142  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

something  of  a  scheme.  But  I  said  nothing 
about  it,  for  I  did  not  want  to  discourage 
Tom.  Everything  depended  on  him. 

For  hours  we  rode  along,  talking  over  mat- 
ters and  things  that  had  fallen  to  our  lot  in 
Texas,  and  were  beginning  to  look  around  for 
a  belt  of  post  oaks,  in  which  we  could  camp 
for  the  day,  when  Tom,  who  was  going  on 
ahead,  suddenly  stopped  and  held  up  his 
finger.  I  had  heard  the  same  sound,  but 
didn't  think  it  best  to  speak  of  it.  Presently 
it  came  again,  faint  and  far  off,  but  there  was 
no  mistaking  it. 

"It  is  thunder,  as  sure  as  I  am  a  foot  high," 
said  Tom,  his  face  brightening  as  if  he  had 
just  discovered  something. 

"It  is,  for  a  fact!  I  heard  it  long  ago, 
but  you  were  so  busy  talking  that  you  didn't 
notice  it,"  I  replied.  "I  really  believe  it  is 
going  to  rain." 

"Grant  that  it  may  be  a  deluge.  I  will 
gladly  swim  from  here  to  the  ranch  if  they 
will  only  send  water  enough.  There  is  some 
timber  straight  ahead,  and  the  sooner  we 
reach  it  the  sooner  we  will  be  safe." 


TOM'S  LUCK.  143 

It  did  look  like  rain,  sure  enough,  and  even 
our  horses  felt  the  coming  breeze  and  were  not 
disposed  to  wait  for  the  spur.  One  would 
have  thought  there  was  a  regiment  of  cavalry 
camped  in  the  woods  toward  which  we  were 
hastening,  for  the  animals  neighed  to  each 
other  as  fast  as  they  could  take  breath.  The 
sky  became  overcast,  after  a  while  the  moon 
was  completely  shut  out  from  our  view,  and 
then  everything  was  as  dark  as  one  could 
wish  ;  but  we  were  already  headed  for  the 
timber  and  did  not  care  for  that.  At  last  we 
were  fairly  inside  the  protecting  branches,  and 
then  the  storm  came.  What  a  deluge  it  was  ! 
It  wasn't  a  " norther,"  such  as  we  would  have 
expected  a  month  or  two  later,  but  a  regular 
downpour  of  rain,  and  the  lightning  flashed 
incessantly.  Whatever  it  may  have  been  for 
us — and  we  were  as  wet  as  drowned  rats 
before  we  had  staked  out  our  horses — we 
knew  it  was  the  life  of  half  our  cattle  in  the 
drive.  We  whistled  and  sang  as  we  took  our 
saddles  off  our  horses  and  put  them  on  the 
leeward  side  of  the  trees  so  that  we  could 
keep  out  of  the  storm,  and  all  the  while  it  was 


144  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

so  dark  that  we  couldn't  see  each  other.  Let 
some  of  you  who  haven't  seen  a  drop  of  rain 
for  sixteen  months,  and  the  streams  were  all 
dry,  and  you  had  to  carry  your  water  from  a 
distance,  imagine  how  good  it  seemed  to  us. 
Every  time  the  lightning  flashed  with  un- 
wonted fury,  and  it  seemed  to  us  that  one  or 
the  other  of  us  had  been  struck,  I  would  call 
out  as  soon  as  I  could  make  myself  heard: 
"  Tom,  are  you  there  yet?"  and  the  answer 
that  came  back  was  always  a  cheering  one : 
"  Yes,  I'm  here  yet.  A  man  who  was  born  to 
be  hanged  can't  be  struck  by  lightning." 

To  make  a  long  story  short  the  storm  con- 
tinued all  that  day  and  never  let  up  a  bit ; 
and  Tom  and  I  slept  through  it  all.  We 
picked  out  a  comfortable  position  on  the  side 
of  the  trees  opposite  the  storm,  and  wrapping 
up  head  and  ears  in  blankets,  went  off  into  the 
land  of  dreams.  When  we  awoke  the  storm 
had  passed  and  the  moon  was  just  coming  up, 
and  our  first  thought  was  to  get  something  to 
eat ;  for  it  had  rained  so  hard  all  day  that 
any  attempt  to  start  a  fire  would  have  been 
useless.  Overjoyed  as  we  were  to  see  the 


TOM'S  LUCK.  145 

rain,  we  still  had  sense  enough  to  take  care 
of  our  provisions.  Tom  had  the  salt  stowed 
away  inside  of  his  coat  so  that  the  water  could 
not  get  at  it,  and  the  meal  I  had  provided  for. 
I  had  taken  the  bag  that  contained  it  in 
between  my  knees  and  covered  it  over  with 
my  blanket,  and  although  the  outside  of  the 
meal  was  wet,  the  inside  of  it  was  perfectly 
dry. 

"  Remember,  now,  that  you  are  to  get  three 
meals  in  one,"  said  Tom,  handing  out  the  salt 
and  going  out  to  attend  to  the  horses  which, 
having  eaten  all  the  boughs  within  reach,  now 
showed  a  disposition  to  get  at  the  grass.  "  I 
am  as  hungry  as  a  wolf." 

It  took  an  hour  to  get  supper,  and  we  did 
full  justice  to  it.  By  that  time  the  horses  had 
got  their  fill  of  the  grass,  and  I  never  saw 
them  act  so  much  like  themselves  as  they  did 
when  we  brought  them  in  to  put  the  saddles 
on  them.  They  acted  as  though  they  were 
impatient  to  be  off. 

"Now  we  are  fairly  afloat  again,"  said 
Tom,  after  we  had  ridden  out  on  the  prairie 
and  put  our  horses  into  a  gentle  lope.  "I 
10 


146  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

wonder  if  that  man  Henderson  has  missed  us 
yet?" 

"  You  may  be  sure  he  has,"  I  replied. 
"  And  if  he  doesn't  send  somebody  to  head  us 
off  or  come  himself,  I  shall  miss  my  guess. 
We  mustn't  think  we  are  going  to  have  this 
all  our  own  way." 

uOh,  I  don't!"  said  Tom  hastily.  "But 
let  me  get  the  first  pull  at  it  and  I'll  find  that 
pocket-book.  My  luck  never  went  back  on 
me  yet." 

I  had  not  been  long  on  the  plains  before  I 
became  really  amazed  at  the  sight  that  was 
presented  to  me.  One,  to  have  been  with  us, 
would  have  thought  that  we  had  purposely 
left  a  good  portion  of  our  herd  behind,  a 
prey  for  the  wolves,  for  as  far  as  our  eyes 
could  reach  we  saw  cattle  that  had  been 
abandoned  by  us  as  unfit  to  go  farther,  delib- 
erately engaged  in  cropping  the  grass.  The 
rain  had  revived  them  and  they  were  doing 
what  they  could  to  save  themselves.  There 
must  have  been  a  thousand  head  within  the 
range  of  our  vision,  and  I  knew  that  the 
cattlemen  would  soon  be  out  after  them.  I 


TOM'S  LUCK.  147 

expressed  this  hope  to  Tom  and  was  surprised 
to  find  that  he  did  not  agree  with  me. 

"  You  hope  the  cattlemen  will  come  out 
after  them?"  said  he,  looking  amazed. 
"  Well,  I  don't!  The  men  will  be  certain  to 
see  us — 

"They  won't  be  out  for  a  day  or  two,  and 
consequently  we'll  be  beyond  their  reach," 
I  answered.  "I  am  not  afraid  of  the  cat- 
tlemen. It  is  that  Henderson  that  I  am 
afraid  of." 

We  were  eight  days  on  the  road,  and  all  the 
time  our  horses  showed  signs  of  increased 
vigor,  and  at  last  we  came  across  some  things 
which  Tom  remembered ;  and  finally  the 
whitewashed  walls  of  the  ranch  came  into 
view.  Then  Tom  began  to  look  sober.  It 
was  easy  enough  to  talk  about  finding  the 
pocket-book,  but  to  find  it  was  a  different 
thing.  We  approached  the  ranch  with  fear 
and  trembling  because  we  didn't  know  who 
had  been  there  since  we  left,  but  we  found 
everything  just  as  it  ought  to  be.  We 
thought  it  necessary  to  stake  out  our  horses 
because  the  rain  had  started  the  grass  so 


148  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

much  that  they  would  have  strayed  off  before 
we  had  left  them  an  hour. 

"Now,  Tom,"  said  I,  as  I  drove  the  picket- 
pin  into  the  ground  and  picked  up  my  rifle 
and  put  it  on  the  porch,  so  as  to  have  it 
handy,  "come  on  and  show  us  your  luck. 
Your  luck  never  went  back  on  you  yet,  and 
this  is  the  time  to  prove  it.  Yes,  sir ;  every- 
thing is  just  as  we  left  it,"  I  added,  as  I 
pushed  open  the  door.  "  There  has  nobody 
been  here." 

Tom  placed  his  rifle  in  one  corner  of  the 
cabin  and  walked  over  to  Mr.  Davenport's 
bed  as  confidently  as  though  he  already  felt 
the  pocket-book  in  his  grasp,  picked  up  the 
clothing  one  by  one  and  shook  them  out, 
placing  the  articles  carefully  on  the  floor,  so 
that  he  wouldn't  have  to  look  at  them  again, 
and  I  sat  down  in  the  invalid's  rocking  chair 
and  watched  his  movements.  But  not  a  thing 
happened  to  come  out.  At  last  he  came  to 
the  mattress,  but  here,  too,  his  luck  was  at 
fault.  Slowly  and  by  handfuls  he  took  out 
the  hay  with  which  the  mattress  had  been 
stuffed,  but  not  a  thing  in  the  shape  of  a 


TOM'S  LUCK.  149 

pocket-book  did  he  find.  Then  he  removed 
the  wooden  slats  that  held  the  bed  up  and 
cautiously  scrutinized  every  opening,  and 
even  looked  under  the  bed  itself,  but  it  was 
all  in  vain.  Whatever  else  the  invalid  did 
with  his  property,  he  certainly  hadn't  hid  it 
about  where  he  lay. 

"I  declare,  my  luck  has  played  me  false 
for  once  in  my  life,"  said  Tom,  seating  him- 
self on  the  bed  and  giving  up  with  blank 
despair.  "I  was  sure  that  pocket-book  was 
hidden  somewhere  about  his  bed." 

"Well,  then,  I  must  take  a  hand,"  said  I, 
pulling  over  one  of  the  other  beds.  "Here 
are  plenty  of  others  to  be  examined.  Let's 
pull  them  all  to  pieces." 

Tom  went  to  work  once  more,  but  I  knew 
we  were  on  the  wrong  scent.  We  pulled  all 
the  beds  to  pieces,  and  then  I  got  a  chair  and 
devoted  myself  to  the  rafters,  especially  all 
around  the  house  where  they  came  down  to 
the  wall,  and  Tom  got  a  sharp  stick  some- 
where and  pried  up  the  stones  there  were  in 
the  fireplace,  but  not  a  thing  did  we  find. 
We  spent  at  least  an  hour  on  the  inside  of  the 


150  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

ranch,  and  then,  utterly  discouraged,  we  went 
out  on  the  porch  and  I  pulled  out  my  pipe. 

"My  luck  has  gone  back  on  me,  too," 
said  I.  "  Where  do  you  suppose  Mr.  Daven- 
port hid  that  thing?" 

"I  don't  believe  he  could  tell  himself  if  he 
were  alive,"  answered  Tom.  "He  must  have 
felt  very  bad  when  he  hid  it,  for  he  took  the 
wrong  pocket-book.  Do  you  imagine  he  hid 
it  under  the  house  ? " 

"I  don't  know.  We  might  as  well  look 
everywhere,  now  that  we  are  here.  There  is 
one  thing  about  it,"  I  added,  "he  didn't 
know  but  he  had  the  right  one  at  the  time 
he  fell  from  his  horse.  When  he  fell  he  put 
his  hands  on  his  pocket-book.  Who  are 
those  coming  there?" 

I  did  not  need  to  point  out  the  direction  of 
the  three  men  who  were  approaching,  because 
they  were  in  plain  sight,  and  Tom  saw  them 
readily  enough.  They  were  coming  fast,  too, 
as  if  they  feared  they  might  be  too  late.  Tom 
never  changed  his  position,  nor  did  he  make 
an  effort  to  pick  up  his  rifle. 

"It  is  somebody  coming  to  look  for  the 


TOM'S  LUCK.  151 

pocket-book,"  said  he.  "Let  them  go  on  and 
see  what  sort  of  luck  they  will  have.  It 
wouldn't  surprise  me  if  they  went  straight 
to  it." 

"No,  sir;  they  can't  do  that!"  said  I 
hastily.  "  We  have  been  to  every  spot  in  the 
ranch, — in  the  cupboard,  the  fireplace,  the 
beds, — and  I  would  like  to  see  them  haul  out 
a  thing  the  size  of  that  pocket-book  that  we 
have  missed.  I  declare,  it  is  Henderson  and 
Coyote  Bill.  They're  there  as  big  as  life. 
Now,  where  did  Henderson  find  Coyote  Bill 
so  quickly?  That  is  what  I  should  like  to 
know." 

I  was  in  something  of  a  trap  ;  I  could  see 
that  plainly  enough.  If  Coyote  Bill  should 
accuse  me  of  treachery,  there  was  only  one 
thing  he  could  do  with  me.  They  came  up  as 
swiftly  as  their  horses  could  foot  it,  and  I  saw 
that  one  of  them  carried  his  revolver  in  his 
hand.  We  sat  there  on  the  porch  and  looked 
at  them.  Coyote  Bill  was  the  first  one  who 
spoke. 

"Morning,"  said  he  cheerfully.  " Did  you 
boys  find  it?" 


152  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

"We  found  never  the  thing,"  answered 
Tom.  "We  stayed  here  in  hopes  that  you 
would  go  straight  to  it.  We  have  been  in 
every  place  and  it  isn't  there." 

"Well,  you  two  can  stand  up  and  put  your 
hands  above  your  heads,"  said  the  stranger. 
"We'll  begin  the  search  by  going  through 
you  first." 

"Say,  Pete,  you  won't  find  anything 
there,"  interposed  Bill. 

"I'm  going  through  them  to  find  out," 
answered  Pete.  "I  am  going  to  look  in  every 
nook  and  corner  of  the  place  before  I  go 
away.  That  pocket-book  is  here  and  we  are 
going  to  have  it." 

With  one  accord  Tom  and  I  arose  to  our 
feet,  extended  our  hands  above  our  heads, 
and  Pete  put  up  his  revolver  and  proceeded 
to  "sound"  us  very  thoroughly.  He  felt  in 
all  our  pockets,  and  run  his  hand  over  the 
seams  of  our  clothing,  to  see  if  there  was  any- 
thing there  to  remind  him  of  papers  that  had 
been  stowed  away. 

"You  needn't  be  so  particular,"  said  I. 
"We  have  been  here  about  an  hour  before 


TOM'S  LUCK.  153 

you  came,  and  we  haven't  had  time  to  stow 
away  any  papers.  We  wouldn't  be  foolish 
enough  to  do  that,  anyway." 

"Never  you  mind,"  said  Pete.  "lam 
going  through  you.  Some  of  you  boys  know 
where  that  pocket-book  is,  and  I'm  going  to 
know  too,  before  I  get  through  with  you." 

"Holy  Moses!  Just  look  a-here!"  said 
Coyote  Bill,  who  just  then  entered  the  house. 
"If  the  pocket-book  was  in  here  those  boys 
have  got  it,  sure." 

"  But  I  tell  you  we  haven't  got  it,"  said  I. 
"  We  are  just  as  anxious  to  find  it  as  you  are." 

"Are  you  going  to  give  it  up?"  said  Pete, 
once  more  drawing  out  his  revolver.  "  Where 
is  it?" 

"You  can  shoot  if  you  please,  but  I  tell 
you  that  you  won't  make  anything  by  it," 
I  replied,  looking  him  squarely  in  the  eye. 
"That  pocket-book  is  hidden  where  no  one 
will  ever  find  it." 

"  Do  you  know  where  it  is  ? " 

"JSTo,  I  don't!  And  that  is  the  honest 
truth." 

"Aw!    Pete,   let    him    alone,"    said  Bill. 


154  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

He  stood  just  on  the  threshold  with  his 
hands  against  his  hips,  but  making  no  effort 
to  continue  the  search  we  had  begun.  "He 
hasn't  got  it.  It  isn't  here,  and  we  might  as 
well  go  under  the  house.  Have  you  boys 
looked  up  among  the  rafters?" 

"  Yes  ;  we  have  looked  everywhere." 
I  wasn't  as  thoroughly  cowed  as  some  boys 
might  have  been,  for  I  saw  that  Coyote  Bill 
was  disposed  to  be  friendly  toward  me  ;  so  I 
had  plenty  of  time  to  study  the  expression  on 
Henderson's  face.  When  he  first  rode  up  to 
the  ranch  it  wore  a  determined  look  which 
said  that  he  knew  we  had  the  object  of  which 
we  were  in  search,  and  that  he  was  bound  to 
have  it ;  but  when  he  watched  the  results  of 
Pete's  examination,  and  stood  in  the  door  and 
witnessed  the  confusion  that  Tom  and  I  had 
made  in  the  cabin,  the  expression  of  serious 
resolve  he  had  on  his  countenance  gave  way 
to  a  look  of  intense  and  bitter  rage.  The 
ranch  looked  as  bad  as  the  wagon  did  when  he 
got  through  with  it.  If  he  had  been  alone 
and  held  the  power  in  his  hands  I  wouldn't 
have  felt  so  much  at  my  ease. 


TOM*S    LUCK.  155 

"Well,  you  see  it  isn't  here,  don't  you?" 
said  Coyote  Bill  soothingly.  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve the  old  man  had  any  other  pocket-book, 
anyway." 

"That's  my  opinion,"  said  Pete.  "If  he 
had,  where  is  it?  " 

This  was  enough  to  set  Henderson  fairly  to 
boiling,  but  he  dared  not  show  it. 

"I  say  he  did  !  "  said  he,  striving  hard  to 
keep  down  his  rising  anger.  "What  made 
Bob  look  so  blue  when  the  contents  of  this 
pocket-book  were  read  ?  I  tell  you  that  the 
old  man  had  another,  and  it  is  somewhere 
in  this  house." 

"I  think  he  had  another  one,  too,"  I  an- 
swered, wishing  to  keep  on  good  terms  with 
Bill.  Although  he  didn't  say  much,  I  could 
see  that  he  was  on  the  very  point  of  using  his 
revolver  ;  and  as  I  had  seen  something  of  that 
kind  once  or  twice  before,  I  did  not  care  to  see 
another.  "  He  has  got  another  pocket-book 
somewhere,  but  whether  he  took  it  in  the 
wagon  with  him  or  left  it  here  in  the  house,  I 
don't  know." 

"Where  is  it,  then  ? "  asked  Bill. 


156  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"That'smore'nlknow." 

"  I  don't  like  to  take  such  a  ride  as  this  for 
nothing,  and  I  am  going  under  the  house," 
said  Bill.  "  Come  on,  Pete." 

"But  aint  you  afraid  to  trust  these  boys 
here  alone?"  asked  Pete. 

"No.  I  trusted  one  of  them  before  I  made 
any  move  ;  didn't  I,  Carlos  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  he  went  back  on  you,"  said 
Henderson.  "If  he  didn't  you  would  have 
got  the  pocket-book." 

"Did  you  go  back  on  me,  Carlos  ?  " 

"That's  a  pretty  question  for  a  man  to 
ask,"  I  answered,  scowling  savagely  at  Hen- 
derson. "  I  knew  you  could  shoot  as  well  as 
anybody." 

"  That's  what  I  knew,  too.  Come  on,  Pete ! 
If  Henderson  is  afraid  to  trust  them,  he  can 
stay  here  with  them." 

But  that  was  something  Henderson  was  not 
prepared  to  do.  He  wanted  to  be  close  to  the 
men  when  they  found  that  pocket-book,  for 
there  was  so  much  in  it  that  he  was  afraid 
to  trust  them  alone  with  it ;  so  when  they 
moved  off  and  crawled  under  the  ranch,  he 


TOM'S  LUCK.  157 

went  with  them.  Tom  and  I  returned  to  our 
seats  on  the  porch,  saying  never  a  word  to 
each  other,  and  for  an  hour  listened  to  the 
movements  of  the  men  that  were  under  the 
house.  Sometimes  I  was  almost  certain  they 
had  found  it,  but  when  they  came  out  after 
their  search  was  over,  I  told  myself  that  the 
invalid  had  never  hidden  anything  under 
there,  for  they  were  as  dirty  as  they  could 
well  be.  They  were  all  mad,  but  Coyote  Bill 
brightened  up  when  he  saw  me. 

"  Well,  Carlos,  you  think  you  won't  go  with 
me  ?"  said  he. 

"  And  steal  cattle  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Well,  that's  what  some  folks  call  it,"  said 
Bill,  with  a  laugh. 

"  No,  I  think  I  will  stay  here  and  be  honest. 
I  find  I  can  make  a  living  better  that  way  than 
I  can  by  stealing.  Are  you  going  to  give  up 
the  search  ? " 

"We  might  as  well.  There  is  no  pocket- 
book  here,  or  if  there  is  it  is  hidden  where  no 
one  will  ever  find  it.  So  we  may  as  well  give 
it  up  and  go  down  there  to  Trinity." 

Henderson  was  not  yet  satisfied.     He  had 


158  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

given  the  under  part  of  the  house  a  good  over- 
hauling, had  prodded  every  little  mound  of 
earth  that  looked  as  though  it  might  recently 
have  been  thrown  up,  and  now  he  was  going 
to  try  the  upper  part.  He  had  brought  a 
stick  with  him,  and  with  it  he  dug  down  in 
the  fireplace  until  he  went  so  far  that  the 
solid  earth  resisted  his  efforts,  and  all  the 
while  the  men  stood  by  watching  him.  After 
that  he  devoted  his  attention  to  the  things  we 
had  taken  off  the  beds,  throwing  them  into 
one  corner,  and  when  the  last  handful  of  hay 
had  been  tossed  aside  he  was  obliged  to  con- 
fess that  there  was  nothing  there. 

"  Are  you  satisfied  now  « "  asked  Bill.  "  If 
you  are,  we  are  going." 

"  That  pocket-book  is  somewhere  about  this 
ranch,  and  I  know  it,"  said  Henderson.  "I 
don't  like  to  give  it  up." 

But  all  the  same,  when  he  saw  his  com- 
panions mounting  their  horses,  in  readiness  to 
go  away,  he  followed  their  example.  They 
went  away  without  saying  a  good  word  to  us. 
Tom  settled  back  in  his  chair  and  crossed  his 
legs,  while  I  filled  my  pipe  and  looked  at  him. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HENDERSON  IS  ASTONISHED. 

"  'TTTHERE  is  all  your  luck  gone  now, 
VV  Tom?"  I  enquired. 

"It's  gone,"  said  Tom  disconsolately, 
"  and  I  am  left  here  flat  on  my  back.  I  could 
have  taken  my  oath  that  the  pocket-book  was 
hidden  somewhere  about  that  bed.  What 
do  you  suppose  made  that  Coyote  Bill  so 
friendly  with  you?  If  there  had  been  any 
other  man  than  you  here  he  would  have 
talked  rough  to  him." 

"And  perhaps  have  done  something 
rough,"  I  added.  "  I  don't  know  what 
made  him  act  so,  unless  he  had  an  idea  that 
he  was  going  to  get  me  to  go  off  with  him. 
He  is  going  to  see  some  trouble  some  day. 
But  what  about  breakfast?  I  am  getting 
hungry." 

"  Let  us  put  some  of  these    stones  back 


159 


160  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

where  they  belong  and  cook  our  breakfast  in 
here,"  said  Tom.  "Somehow  I  don't  feel 
like  going  out  in  the  woods.  That  pocket- 
book  is  concealed  around  here,  and  I  would 
like  to  know  where  it  is." 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders,  and  seized  a 
bucket  to  go  out  and  bring  some  water,  and 
Tom,  taking  that  as  an  answer  that  he  could 
guess  the  matter  as  well  as  I,  went  in  to  put 
some  of  the  stones  back  in  the  fireplace.  I 
was  not  gone  more  than  ten  minutes,  and 
when  I  came  back  I  found  Tom  on  the  porch 
fairly  convulsed  with  excitement.  He  could 
hardly  stand  still. 

"  Say,  Carlos,  where  are  the  men  that  were 
here?"  he  stammered,  as  plainly  as  he  could 
speak. 

"  They  have  just  ridden  over  that  hill  out  of 
sight,"  I  replied.  "  Is  anything  up  ? " 

"There's  no  chance  for  them  to  come 
back?" 

"Of  course  not.     They  are  gone." 

"There  isn't  any  of  their  party  loafing 
around  ready  to  come  back  and  see  what  we 
have  found,  is  there  1 " 


HENDERSON   IS   ASTONISHED.  161 

"Why,  Tom,"  I  exclaimed,  " have  you 
found  the  pocket-book  ?  " 

"Come  in  here,"  said  Tom,  seizing  me  by 
the  arm  and  dragging  me  into  the  ranch. 
"Now,  there's  the  pocket-book—  Well,  it 
isn't  in  plain  sight,  but  it  is  so  near  it  that 
you  will  think  those  men  ought  to  have  dis- 
covered it.  See  here  !  " 

Tom  seized  a  stick  which  one  of  the  men 
had  used  and  began  poking  around  in  the 
ashes  that  covered  the  hearthstone.  No  one 
had  thought  of  moving  that  stone,  for  it  was 
so  large  that  the  sticks  which  supported  the 
chimney  came  down  on  each  side  of  it ;  but 
the  dirt  under  the  edges  of  it  had  been  thrown 
out,  until  it  was  found  that  there  was  nothing 
there.  The  ashes  which  concealed  it  were 
those  that  had  been  left  there  from  the  last 
fire  Mr.  Davenport  had  made,  when  he  didn't 
feel  like  going  out  of  doors,  and  there  was 
scarcely  enough  of  them  to  cover  a  quarter  of 
a  dollar,  let  alone  a  good-sized  pocket-book ; 
but  Tom  knew  right  where  to  go,  and  with  the 
second  prod  he  brought  out  the  pocket-book — 
the  identical  mate  to  the  one  that  was  now  in 
11 


162  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

camp.  Mr.  Davenport  had  concealed  it  there 
on  the  morning  after  Coyote  Bill  had  made  an 
effort  to  steal  it,  and  had  forgotten  where  he 
put  it.  The  one  that  contained  the  receipts 
he  had  placed  under  his  pillow,  and  when 
we  got  ready  to  start  in  the  morning, — we 
packed  up  in  something  of  a  hurry,  you  will 
understand, — he  had  taken  that  one  with  him  ! 
I  was  profoundly  astonished.  I  jumped  for- 
ward and  picked  up  the  pocket-book,  giving 
it  a  slap  or  two  in  my  hands  to  clear  it  of  the 
ashes  that  clung  to  it,  and  opened  it. 

"I  tell  you  my  luck  hasn't  gone  back  on 
me  yet,"  said  Tom,  who  was  overjoyed  at  his 
discovery. 

"Why,  Tom,  how  did  you  find  it?"  I 
asked.  I  couldn't  think  of  anything  else  to 
say. 

"I  have  been  thinking  about  it  all  the 
time,"  answered  Tom.  "And  I  couldn't 
think  of  any  place  in  the  house  that  had  not 
been  looked  into  except  these  ashes,  so  I 
began  to  poke  into  them.  At  the  second  jab 
I  made,  out  came  the  pocket-book." 

I  looked  around  until  I  found  a  chair,  and 


HENDERSON   IS   ASTONISHED.  163 

then  seated  myself  to  examine  the  pocket- 
book  ;  for  you  will  remember  that  we  had 
taken  a  long  ride,  and  we  did  not  want  to 
take  another  with  the  same  object  in  view. 
The  papers  were  all  folded  neatly  away,  and 
as  I  opened  the  first  one  I  came  to,  my  eyes 
caught  the  words:  uln  the  name  of  God, 
Amen."  That  was  the  will,  and  it  was  all 
right.  I  looked  at  the  conclusion,  and  there 
were  the  names  of  all  of  us  as  witnesses.  The 
next  paper  I  opened  was  a  letter  of  instruc- 
tions to  Bob,  and  told  him  how  to  carry  on 
Ms  business  if  he  wanted  to  make  a  success 
of  it. 

"  I  don't  want  to  look  any  further,"  I  said, 
folding  up  the  papers.  "Tom,  you've  got  it 
as  sure  as  the  world." 

Tom  did  not  make  any  reply  at  once.  He 
went  out  on  the  porch  and  all  around  the 
ranch  to  make  sure  that  there  was  no  one 
listening  to  us. 

"Say,  Carlos  !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he 
came  back,  "I've  found  the  will,  and  now  you 
have  got  to  take  charge  of  it.  If  you  see  any- 
body coming  toward  us  on  the  way  home,  just 


164  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

take  out  the  pocket-book  and  drop  it  into  the 
grass,  and  then  when  they  have  gone  we'll 
come  and  find  it.  How  does  that  strike 
you?" 

"That  will  do,"  I  replied.  "Then  we  can 
say  that  we  don't  know  where  it  is,  only  we'll 
have  to  keep  a  close  watch  of  landmarks  to 
find  the  place  where  we  hid  it.  I  wish  I  had 
your  luck." 

"I  wish  you  had  too,"  replied  Tom,  with  a 
smile.  "I  notice  that  everybody  is  poking 
fun  at  me  on  account  of  it,  but  I  tell  you 
sometimes  it  comes  handy.  Now,  if  you  will 
go  out  and  cook  breakfast  I'll  put  everything 
back  as  I  found  it." 

The  breakfast  didn't  amount  to  much,  for 
we  were  anxious  to  begin  our  homeward 
journey  to  see  what  effect  the  result  of  oar 
search  would  have  upon  Bob.  There  was  not 
one  man  in  ten,  who  knew  what  we  were  going 
to  the  ranch  for,  who  would  have  predicted 
our  success,  and  we  were  equally  anxious  to 
hear  what  Lem  and  Frank  would  have  to  say 
about  it.  I  heard  Tom  strike  up  a  lively 
whistle  in  the  ranch  while  I  was  gathering 


HENDERSON  IS   ASTONISHED.  165 

wood  for  the  fire,  and  in  a  few  minutes  lie 
came  out. 

"Say!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  will  you 
bet  that  Henderson  isn't  getting  a  good  going 
over  by  this  time?" 

"I  am  quite  sure  he  is,"  said  I.  "You 
know  Pete  said  he  didn'  t  believe  Mr.  Daven- 
port had  another  pocket-book,  and  Coyote 
Bill  agreed  with  him.  But  we  knew  a  story 
worth  two  of  that !  " 

"I  know  it.  And  to  think  that  we  should 
find  it  before  they  were  fairly  out  of  sight  of 
the  building.  Who — pee !  My  luck  never 
went  back  on  me  yet." 

Tom  went  back  to  his  work,  and  when  I 
had  the  bacon  fairly  under  way  and  the  corn 
bread  done,  I  invited  him  to  come  out  and  eat 
breakfast,  if  his  excitement  would  allow  him 
to  eat  any.  He  had  the  things  mostly  picked 
up.  Two  of  the  beds  hadn't  been  touched, 
and  we  would  leave  them  for  the  cowboys 
who  wouldn't  have  anything  else  to  do.  He 
came,  and  the  way  the  breakfast  disappeared 
was  a  caution.  He  ate  more  that  I  could  have 
eaten  to  save  my  life,  and  I  came  to  the  con- 


166  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

elusion  that  the  excitement  was  not  all  on  his 
side.  In  half  an  hour  more  we  were  on  our 
homeward  journey,  and  during  the  whole  of 
that  ride  there  was  nothing  happened  that 
was  worthy  of  narration.  We  performed  the 
ride  almost  entirely  by  daylight.  When  we 
slept  it  was  in  a  grove  of  post-oaks,  and  any 
one  who  had  come  upon  our  camp  would  not 
have  found  the  pocket-book.  I  took  par- 
ticular pains  to  hide  it  before  we  turned  in, 
and  when  morning  came  it  was  always  there. 
It  rained  for  two  days  during  our  journey,  but 
we  didn't  mind  that,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  we  began  to  strike  the  advance  guards 
of  our  cattle.  ISTo  fight  had  occurred  between 
the  farmers  and  our  outfit,  because  the  former 
were  men  and  knew  just  what  they  would  do 
under  the  same  circumstances.  They  and  the 
Rangers  camped  on  the  other  side  of  Trinity 
to  see  that  we  did  not  drive  our  cattle  over, 
and  when  it  rained  the  Rangers  knew  that 
their  work  was  done  and  started  at  once  for 
home,  while  the  farmers  remained  a  few  days 
longer  to  guard  their  crops.  Almost  the  first 
man  we  saw  was  Clifford  Henderson,  who  was 


HENDERSON   IS   ASTONISHED.  167 

out  trying  to  sell  his  stock  to  some  cattlemen, 
but  the  cattlemen  did  not  like  the  way  he  had 
come  in  charge  of  it,  and  would  not  consent  to 
buy.  When  he  saw  us  approaching  he  rode 
to  meet  us,  accompanied  by  three  or  four  of 
the  men  whom  he  had  been  trying  to  induce 
to  buy  his  cattle. 

"  I  am  glad  I  don' t  feel  the  way  I  did  when 
I  last  saw  this  stock,"  said  Tom.  "  I  tell  you 
I  was  glum  then,  and  didn't  know  whether 
my  luck  was  going  to  stand  me  in  hand  or  not. 
There  comes  Henderson,  but  he  has  got  some 
of  our  men  with  him,  so  that  we  need  not  be 
afraid.  It  beats  me  how  he  can  associate  with 
fellows  like  Coyote  Bill,  and  then  hold  up  his 
head  when  he  gets  among  honest  men." 

"He  knows  that  we  won't  tell  of  him  until 
the  proper  time  comes,"  said  I.  "I'll  bet 
you  that  by  the  time  this  business  is  settled 
you  can't  put  your  hands  on  him." 

"  Where  will  he  go  ?" 

"He'll  put  out.  Just  as  soon  as  he  finds 
the  will  in  our  hands  he  will  skip.  You  see 
if  lie  don't," 

But  at  this  moment  Henderson  came  along 


168  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

as  though  he  had  a  perfect  right  to  be  there. 
He  was  talking,  and  laying  down  some  law  to 
the  men. 

"I  tell  you  that  pocket-book  was  the  only 
one  Mr.  Davenport  had,"  said  he.  "When 
he  was  taken  with  that  fit  and  fell  from  his 
horse,  he  placed  his  hands  upon  it  to  be  sure 
that  it  was  safe.  Here  are  the  boys  ;  you  can 
ask  them.  Did  you  find  it  ? " 

uFind  what?"  I  asked;  for  I  knew  that 
Tom  would  expect  me  to  do  all  the  talking. 

"Find  the  pocket-book,"  continued  Hen- 
derson. "These  men  insist  that  there  is 
another  one  somewhere,  and  that  I  haven't 
got  any  right  to  the  cattle.  Now  I  want  to 
know  if  you  found  it." 

"We  looked  over  every  place  that  you 
looked  and  didn't  find  any,"  I  answered. 
"Every  place  except  under  the  house." 

"And  I  don't  blame  you  for  not  going 
there,"  said  Henderson,  with  a  laugh.  "  We 
went  under  there  and  got  as  dirty  as  so  many 
pigs.  You  saw  me  come  there  with  two  men, 
didn't  you?" 

"You  certainly  did." 


HENDERSON   IS    ASTONISHED.  169 

"And  I  looked  everywhere  for  the  pocket- 
book  and  didn't  find  it,"  added  Henderson. 
"In  fact  I  examined  everything,  and  not  a 
thing  in  the  shape  of  a  pocket-book  did  I  dis- 
cover. I  tell  you,  gentlemen,  there  is  none 
there.  Now,  I  can  sell  you  these  cattle 
cheaper  than  you  can  buy  them  anywhere 
else.  I  have  got  to  go  North  on  business, 
and  I  may  not  come  back ;  and  I  want 
to  get  rid  of  everything  I  have  got  down 
here." 

"  Of  all  the  impudence  I  ever  heard,  you  are 
the  beat,"  I  muttered,  and  it  was  all  I  could 
do  to  keep  from  pulling  out  the  pocket-book 
and  shaking  it  under  Henderson's  nose  ;  but 
I  knew  that  wouldn't  do.  I  must  first  place 
the  pocket-book  in  Mr.  Chisholm's  hands,  and 
then  I  could  say  what  I  had  a  mind  to. 
While  Henderson  was  talking  he  kept  his 
eyes  fastened  upon  one  man,  and  another  in 
the  group  looked  as  fixedly  at  me.  I  scowled 
at  him  repeatedly,  and  finally  the  man  bright- 
ened up  and  said  slowly : 

"I'd  like  to  buy  these  cattle,  because  I  can 
get  them  cheaper  than  I  can  anywhere  else  ; 


170  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

but  I  want  to  be  certain  that  the  man  lias  got 
a  right  to  them  before  he  lets  'em  go." 

"All  the  will  that  was  made  was  in  that 
pocket-book,"  said  Henderson  impatiently. 
"  And  you  all  saw  that  there  was  no  will  at 
all.  Being  next  of  kin  I  am  entitled  to  all  his 
property." 

"But"  continued  the  man,  "the  boys  say 
they  did  not  find  anything  while  you  were 
there.  Now  I  want  to  know  if  they  found 
anything  after  you  left.  That's  what's 
a-bothering  of  me." 

I  didn't  make  any  reply  to  this  question, 
I  wanted  it  to  be  put  to  me  before  I  answered. 
The  men  all  looked  at  me,  but  I  remained  as 
dumb  as  one  of  the  cattle  that  were  feeding 
around. 

"You  don't  answer  that  question,"  said  the 
man. 

"  Do  you  ask  it  of  me  ?" 

"Certainly  I  do.  There  is  nobody  else  to 
answer  it." 

"Then  you  have  got  me  pinned  down  to 
a  fine  point,  and  if  I  reply  to  the  question  I 
shall  do  so  truthfully.  I  did  find  something 


HENDERSON   IS   ASTONISHED.  171 

after  he  left — or  rather  Tom  did,  and  it 
amounts  to  the  same  thing." 

"What  was  it?" 

"A  pocket-book." 

"  Where  is  it  ? "  shouted  Henderson,  his 
eyes  blazing  with  excitement.  "  Hand  it  out 
here!" 

"It's  in  my  pocket,  and  there  it  will  stay 
until  I  can  give  it  into  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Chisholm,"  I  answered,  as  firmly  as  I  could. 
"In  it  is  a  will  which  relates  to  Bob  Daven- 
port— 

"It  is  a  fraud!"  exclaimed  Henderson, 
turning  all  sorts  of  colors.  "Hand  it  out 
here  so  that  I  can  look  at  it !  I  am  not  going 
to  be  cheated  out  of  my  cattle  in  this  way." 

"The  will  is  in  Mr.  Davenport's  own  hand- 
writing, and  to  it  are  attached  our  signatures, 
with  Bob  as  a  witness." 

"  It's  a  fraud — a  clean  and  scandalous  lie  !  " 
vociferated  Henderson.  "How  much  do  you 
boys  calculate  you  are  going  to  make  out  of 
this?" 

"Not  a  red  cent!"  I  replied  indignantly. 
"But  you  can  talk  of  making  some  money 


172  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

ont  of  it  when  you  come  to  the  ranch  in  com- 
pany with  such  men  as— 

"That  is  neither  here  nor  there,"  inter- 
rupted Henderson,  who  saw  in  a  minute  that 
I  was  about  to  expose  him.  "I  want  you  to 
show  me  that  will.  I  can  tell  you  whether  or 
not  it  is  genuine." 

"Well,  boys,  let's  go  and  hunt  up  Mr. 
Chisholm,"  said  one  of  the  men,  who  saw  that 
we  were  getting  down  to  a  fine  point.  "  He  is 
the  lawyer  in  this  business  and  will  know 
exactly  what  ought  to  be  done." 

"  I  am  just  as  good  a  lawyer  as  he  is,  and  I 
don't  need  one;  and  furthermore,  I  won't 
have  any  !  "  declared  Henderson.  "  I  tell  you 
I  want  to  see  the  will.  I  will  know  whether  or 
not  it  is  genuine.  I  am  here  alone  and  you 
are  five  to  my  one.  Let  me  see  it,  I  tell  you  !  " 

Henderson  was  about  as  near  crazy  as  a  man 
could  get  and  live,  and  if  we  had  been  alone  I 
should  have  objected  to  show  him  the  pocket- 
book  ;  but  there  were  two  men  there  whom  I 
was  not  afraid  to  trust.  I  looked  at  one  of 
them,  and  he  said  : 

"  As  he  is  the  next  of  kin  I  think  he  has  a 


HENDERSON   IS   ASTONISHED.  173 

right  to  see  the  will.  You  may  show  it  to 
him  without  any  fear  that  he  will  get  away 
with  it.  Get  on  the  other  side  of  him, 
boys !  " 

ulf  you  are  going  to  watch  me  in  this  way, 
you  can  keep  your  old  will ! "  said  Henderson, 
as  plainly  as  he  could  speak,  which,  owing  to 
his  excitement  and  rage,  might  have  been 
taken  for  something  else.  "You  will  find 
that  there  is  a  surrogate  in  this  county  who 
has  to  have  the  will  proved,  and  I  shall  start 
in  search  of  him  before  I  am  an  hour  older. 
Keep  away  from  that  horse.  What  are  you 
putting  your  hands  on  him  for? " 

Two  of  the  men,  without  paying  any  atten- 
tion, to  what  he  said,  "got  around  on  the 
other  side  of  him,"  one  laying  his  hand  upon 
his  bridle  and  the  other  drawing  his  revolver 
and  resting  it  across  the  hollow  of  his  arm.  I 
saw  that  Henderson  was  fairly  cornered,  and 
without  any  further  comments  I  pulled  out 
the  pocket-book  and  gave  it  to  the  spokesman. 
When  Henderson's  eyes  rested  upon  it  it  was 
all  he  could  do  to  keep  from  snatching  it. 

"  That  first  paper  is  the  will,"  said  I.     "It 


174  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

is  signed  by  Kobert  Davenport,  who,  when  he 
showed  us  the  will,  said :  1 1  take  my  oath 
that  this  is  my  proper  signature,'  or  words  to 
that  effect.  Tom  Mason  and  I  signed  it, 
while  Elam  Storm  made  his  mark.  He  can't 
write,  you  know.  Bob  Davenport  signed  it 
as  a  witness." 

"I  see  you  are  all  against  me,  but  I  want  to 
see  the  will,"  said  Henderson.  "You  had 
better  mind  what  you  are  about,  for  they  have 
a  queer  way  of  dealing  with  men  in  this  part 
of  the  country  who  swear  to  a  lie  !" 

"By  gum!  the  boys  have  got  it,  sure 
enough,"  said  the  spokesman,  as  he  ran  his 
eye  rapidly  over  the  paper.  "'In  the  name 
of  God,  Amen!  I,  Robert  Davenport,  being 
thoroughly  convinced  of  the  uncertainty  of 
life,  do  hereby  give  and  bequeath  to  my  son, 
Robert  Davenport,  all  the  property  of  which  I 
may  die  possessed,  to  wit : '  There  you  have 
it.  Do  you  want  to  see  it  1 " 

The  man  who  held  the  revolver  raised  it  to 
a  level  with  Henderson's  head,  the  man  who 
had  his  grip  on  the  bridle  tightened  it,  and 
the  spokesman  passed  the  will  over  to  Hen- 


HENDERSON   IS   ASTONISHED.  175 

derson.  My  heart  was  in  my  mouth,  for  I  did 
not  know  but  the  man,  in  his  rage,  would  kill 
himself  ;  but  he  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  He 
ran  his  eye  rapidly  over  the  paper,  and  I  saw 
that  he  was  trying  to  find  the  name  of  the 
bank  in  which  Mr.  Davenport's  bonds  were 
deposited  for  safe  keeping,  and  then  I 
interfered. 

"That's  enough!"  I  exclaimed.  "  He 
doesn't  want  to  get  at  the  name  of  that 
bank,  because  he  may  get  there  before  we  do. 
Take  it  away  from  him  !  " 

"  You  are  too  late,  young  man,"  said  Hen- 
derson, as  he  readily  gave  up  the  will.  "And 
now,  I  will  bid  you  good-by.  You  are  a  pack 
of  thieves,  the  last  one  of  you  !  " 

He  made  an  effort  to  spur  up  his  horse,  but 
the  man  who  held  his  bridle  was  not  to  be 
taken  unawares. 

"  Take  that  back !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Well,  you  want  me  to  call  you  something, 
don't  you  1 "  said  Henderson. 

I  think  he  was  the  coolest  man  I  ever  saw. 
That  was  twice  he  had  looked  into  the  muzzle 
of  a  revolver  when  the  man  who  stood  behind 


176  THE  MISSING   POCKET-LOOK. 

it  was  just  on  the  point  of  shooting,  but  he 
never  changed  color. 

"Take  it  back!"  said  the  man.  "One- 
two " 

"Well,  then,  you  are  gentlemen,  the  last 
one  of  you,"  said  the  culprit.  "  Now,  let  me 
go,  and  when  you  get  down  to  Austin  you 
may  be  sure  you  will  find  me  there.  There 
isn't  any  law  against  that,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  No  ;  you  can  go  and  come  when  you  are  a 
mind  to  ;  but  you  be  sure  that  you  don't  come 
around  our  camp  to-night !  " 

"You  may  be  sure  that  I  shall  never  come 
around  there  again.  Tlie  next  time  you  see 
me  I  shall  be  backed  up  by  law  !  " 

The  man  who  held  his  bridle  released  it, 
and  we  sat  in  our  saddles  and  saw  Henderson 
gallop  away,  while  the  one  who  held  the  will 
folded  it  up  and  returned  it  to  me.  Hender- 
son evidently  knew  where  he  was  going,  for 
he  went  in  an  awful  hurry,  and  somehow  I 
couldn't  get  it  out  of  my  mind  that  Bob  was 
going  to  see  trouble  over  the  will  after  all. 
As  we  turned  about  and  went  back  to  camp  I 
said  to  our  spokesman  : 


HENDERSON   IS   ASTONISHED.  177 

"Who  is  that  officer  who  is  going  to  ex- 
amine the  will  ?  I  suppose  we  shall  have  to 
go  to  Austin  with  Bob  ? " 

"The  surrogate?  Yes,  he  is  called  that  in 
some  States,  but  what  in  the  world  he  is  called 
here  I  don't  know.  I  never  had  anything  to 
do  with  the  proving  of  wills,  but  we  will  go 
and  see  Mr.  Chisholm.  He  will  know  all 
about  it.  By  gum !  you  fellows  got  it, 
didn'  t  you  ?  And  you  say  that  he  and  two 
other  men  were  there  in  the  house  and  all 
over  it  and  never  found  it?  Tell  us  all 
about  it." 

It  did  not  take  me  long  to  tell  the  cattle- 
men the  history  of  our  trip  to  the  ranch  and 
back,  but  I  left  out  all  allusions  to  Coyote 
Bill.  I  could  do  that  and  I  knew  that  Tom 
wouldn't  betray  me.  When  the  spokesman 
asked  me  who  the  men  were,  I  could  tell  him 
that  one  was  Henderson  and  the  other  was 
'Rastus  Johnson.  Who  the  other  was  I 
didn't  know,  for  I  had  been  on  the  ranch  all 
the  time,  and  my  opportunities  for  making 
acquaintances  were  very  slight.  I  determined 
to  tell  Mr.  Chisholm  all  about  it,  for  I  assure 

12 


178  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

you  I  did  not  feel  like  having  secrets  from 
my  friends. 

"'Rastus  Johnson  !  I  never  knew  him,  but 
his  knowing  something  about  that  pocket- 
book  proves  that  he  is  a  snake  in  the  grass. 
I  wonder  if  he  has  anything  to  do  with 
Coyote  Bill?" 

"There  comes  Bob  Davenport !  "  exclaimed 
Tom  suddenly.  "  He  is  more  interested  in 
what  we  have  to  tell  than  anybody  else." 

I  never  was  so  glad  of  an  interruption  in  my 
life.  It  got  me  out  of  a  lie,  plain  enough.  I 
looked  around,  and  there  was  Bob  waving  his 
hat  to  us.  It  seems  that  the  loss  of  his  cattle 
had  not  hurt  him  any,  for  he  had  his  coat  off 
and  was  working  with  Mr.  Chisholm's  men. 
When  I  saw  him  coming  I  pulled  out  the 
pocket-book  and  waved  it  over  my  head. 


CHAPTEE  X. 

OFF   FOE  AUSTIN. 

WHAT  Bob  Davenport  thought  when  he 
saw  me  waving  that  pocket-book  to 
him,  I  don't  know.  I  held  it  extended  in  my 
left  hand  and  tapped  it  with  my  right  as  if  to 
say,  "Here's  your  will,"  until  he  came  up, 
and  then  I  saw  his  face  was  whiter  than  it  was 
when  he  thought  he  had  lost  his  cattle. 

"You've  got  it!  You've  got  it  as  sure 
as  the  world ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as 
he  came  within  speaking  distance.  "Is  it 
mine  1 " 

"  Tom  Mason  found  it  for  you,  and  it  is  all 
yours,"  said  I.  "I  don't  know  how  much 
there  is  in  it,  because  I  haven't  read  the  will ; 
but  I  heard  your  father  say  that  it  was 
all  yours." 

With  hands  that  trembled  Bob  took  the 
pocket-book  and  opened  it ;  and  as  he  gazed 
upon  the  hand- writing  of  his  father  now  laid 

179 


180  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

away  among  the  willows,  his  eyes  filled  with 
tears.  Mr.  Davenport,  I  afterward  learned, 
had  been  buried  near  the  scene  of  his  death, 
and  the  cattlemen  had  made  a  heavy  box  and 
loaded  it  with  stones  to  protect  it  from  the 
wolves.  Bob  had  not  yet  recovered  from  his 
father's  sudden  death,  but  Clifford  Hender- 
son was  not  at  the  funeral,  and  when  remon- 
strated with  by  the  cattlemen  for  his  want  of 
sympathy  for  the  fate  of  his  brother,  said 
gruffly : 

"Why  should  I  want  to  see  him  buried? 
He  drove  me  away  from  home  by  his  ingrati- 
tude eight  years  ago,  and  I  have  never  got 
over  it.  He  seems  to  have  one  mourner  there, 
and  that  is  enough." 

Bob  Davenport,  we  repeat,  read  the  will 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  also  the  letter  of 
instructions,  and  we  sat  on  our  horses  waiting 
for  him  to  finish.  When  he  was  through  he 
folded  up  the  letter,  closed  the  pocket-book, 
and  handed  it  back  to  me. 

"  Why,  Bob,  it  is  yours,"  I  said. 

"No,"  he  replied  ;  "you  fellows  found  it. 
I  should  never  have  seen  it  if  it  hadn't  been 


OFF  FOR  AUSTIN.  181 

for  you,  and  I  wish  you  to  take  and  hand  it  to 
Mr.  Chisholm.  When  he  says  I  may  have  it 
all,  I  will  take  it ;  not  before.  I  left  him  here 
at  the  wagon  when  I  came  up." 

We  followed  Bob  back  to  the  wagon,  and 
there  we  found  Mr.  Chisholm,  smoking  as 
usual.  He  knew  there  was  something  up,  for 
we  had  waited  almost  fifteen  minutes  for  Bob 
to  read  the  letter,  but  he  said  not  a  word 
until  I  rode  up  and  gave  him  the  pocket-book. 
Then  he  opened  it  and  read  the  first  line  of 
the  will,  after  which  he  folded  it  up  and 
placed  it  in  his  own  pocket. 

"Is  it  all  right?"  he  asked. 

"  It  is  all  there,"  replied  Bob.  "  I  read  the 
whole  of  it." 

"  Which  was  the  lucky  fellow  ?  " 

I  jerked  my  thumb  over  my  shoulder  toward 
Tom  Mason,  and  in  another  moment  Mr.  Chis- 
holm had  him  from  his  horse. 

u  By  George,  Tommy,  you  did  nobly  !  "  said 
he,  lifting  Tom  from  the  ground  with  one  hand 
and  giving  him  a  grip  with  the  other  that 
must  have  brought  tears  of  pain  to  his  eyes. 
"I  believe  now  that  you  found  the  nugget, 


182  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

but  I  was  not  prepared  to  swallow  it  all 
when  I  lirst  heard  of  the  story." 

"Course  he  did!  Didn't  he  find  my 
nugget  when  it  had  been  buried  out  of 
sight  longer  than  I  can  remember  ?  Give 
us  your  grip,  Tom." 

We  looked  up,  and  there  was  Elam  Storm 
coming  around  the  wagon.  He  had  his 
sleeves  rolled  up,  and  a  person  who  knew 
him  would  have  hesitated  about  shaking 
hands  with  him  ;  but  Tom  took  it  without 
ceremony.  There  was  genuine  affection  be- 
tween the  two  boys,  and  it  showed  itself 
in  the  way  they  greeted  each  other. 

"Now,  boys,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  who 
could  not  have  been  more  delighted  if  the  will 
he  had  in  his  possession  had  deeded  some 
property  to  him  instead  of  to  Bob,  "  the  next 
thing  is  something  else.  I  wish  when  you 
start  out  again  that  you  would  see  every 
cowboy  that  you  can,  and  tell  him  to  come 
to  my  wagon  after  supper,  for  I  have  got 
some  things  that  will  interest  them.  I  prom- 
ised to  do  some  more  talking  to  them  when 
I  got  the  will,  and  now  I  am  in  a  con- 


OFF  FOB  AUSTIN.  183 

dition  to  do  it.  Tell  Henderson  to  come 
along  too." 

"  Henderson  won't  be  here,"  said  our 
spokesman. 

"  Ah  !     Skipped  out,  has  he  \ " 

"Yes.  He  said  we  were  thieves,  the  last 
one  of  us,  and  we  asked  him  to  take  it  back 
and  never  show  his  face  in  our  camp  again. 
He  left  in  a  mighty  hurry,  and  I  guess  he  was 
going  somewhere." 

"Humph!"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  with  a 
sidelong  glance  at  me.  "Well,  you  send  all 
the  boys  up  here.  We  have  something  here 
now  that  will  put  a  different  look  on  the 
matter." 

"Now,  Bob,"  continued  our  spokesman, 
"we  haven't  had  a  chance  before  to  tell  you 
how  pleased  we  are  at  your  good  fortune. 
Shake!" 

"Oh,  I  took  it  for  granted,"  said  Bob, 
accepting  the  cowboys'  hands,  one  after  the 
other.  "  You  have  been  so  good  to  me  ever 
since  I  lost  my  cattle  that  I  knew  you  sympa- 
thized witli  me.  I  am  glad  to  receive  your 
congratulations." 


184  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

We  stood  there  at  the  wagon  and  saw  the 
cowboys  ride  away  and  Elam  engaged  in  con- 
versation with  Tom,  and  then  I  motioned  to 
Mr.  Chisholm  to  follow  me  off  on  one  side. 
There  were  two  things  that  I  wanted  to  speak 
to  him  about. 

"  You  know  when  Henderson  read  that  will, 
do  you  not  ? "  I  began. 

"  I  thought  I  did,"  he  replied.  "  You  had 
him  cornei^ed  so  that  he  couldn't  get  away  or 
destroy  it?" 

"Yes,  sir.  He  read  it  rapidly,  much  more 
so  than  I  could  have  done  if  I  had  had  the 
paper,  and  he  wanted  to  get  at  the  name  of  the 
bank  where  the  money  was  kept  on  deposit — 
that  is,  where  the  bonds  were  kept.  Then  I 
interfered  and  the  men  took  the  paper  away 
from  him." 

"  Well  ? "  said  Mr.  Chisholm. 

"He  said  I  was  too  late,"  I  continued. 
"And  then  he  gave  me  to  understand  that  he 
had  got  all  he  wanted.  He  said  that  the  next 
time  I  saw  him  would  be  in  Austin " 

"  W-h-e-w  !  "  whistled  Mr.  Chisholm. 
Yes.     And  then  he  would  have  the  law  to 


1 1 


OFF  FOR  AUSTIN.  185 

back  him  up.  He  would  go  to  the  surrogate 
and  challenge  the  will.  Now,  it  seems  to  me 
that  he  could  make  us  a  heap  of  trouble  by 
doing  that." 

Mr.  Chisholm  knocked  the  ashes  from  his 
pipe  and  filled  up  for  another  smoke,  all  the 
while  keeping  his  eyes  fastened  upon  me.  I 
knew  he  was  thinking  deeply  about  some- 
thing, and  made  no  attempt  to  interrupt  him. 

"Well?"  said  he,  when  he  had  come  to 
some  conclusion. 

"And  there's  another  thing  I  wanted  to 
speak  to  you  about,"  I  continued.  "I  can't 
help  it  because  Coyote  Bill  should  be  so 
friendly  with  me,  can  I  ? " 

"  Why — no  ;  if  you  haven't  done  anything 
to  make  him  so." 

"  Well,  you  know  what  Mr.  Davenport  told 
you,  don't  you?  He  thinks  because  I  lost 
my  cattle  I  am  down  on  everybody  who  has 
not  lost  theirs.  Now,  he  was  one  of  the  party 
who  came  up  there  to  search  the  house." 

"That  doesn't  matter.  You  couldn't  have 
kept  him  away  from  there  if  he  was  a  mind  to 
come,  and  I  confess  I  thought  something  was 


186  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

up  when  Henderson  came  up  missing  the  next 
morning." 

" But  I  don't  want  to  get  these  men  down 
on  me  because  he  acts  so.  He  asked  me  if  I 
was  going  with  him  and  help  him  steal  cattle, 
and  I  told  him  I  was  not.  He  tried  his  best 
to  get  me  interested  in  the  matter  before  he 
made  any  move,  but  I  wouldn't  do  it,  and  it 
was  only  by  taking  Elam  into  my  confidence 
that  I  was  able  to  upset  him." 

"Well,  you  just  let  Coyote  Bill  go  and 
trust  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  giving  me 
his  hand  to  shake.  "If  anybody  says  any- 
thing to  you  about  it  send  them  to  me.  But 
I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  Henderson's 
going  to  Austin.  If  he  should  get  the  cattle 
thrown  into  the  hands  of  a  trustee,  and  have 
some  sort  of  an  arrangement  made  by  which 

he  could  keep  the  bonds  out  of  our  grasp 

Who-pee !  By  George !  We  would  be  in  a 
fix  then." 

"But  could  he  do  that?"  I  asked,  alarmed 
at  the  proposition.  "  Just  see  all  the  writings 
we  would  have." 

"He  could  do  it  if  we  had  a  thousand  times 


OFF  FOR  AUSTIN.  187 

as  much.  He  could  just  challenge  the  will, 
and  by  giving  some  little  pettifogger  money 
enough,  and  promising  him  as  much  more  if 
succeeded,  he  could  have  it  thrown  into  chan- 
cery and  keep  us  out  of  it  forever.  He  could 
do  it  easily  enough.  I  never  did  like  that 
man  Henderson,  anyway." 

Of  course  Mr.  Chisholm  made  things  differ- 
ent from  what  they  were,  and  anybody  could 
see  that  he  didn't  know  much  about  law  ;  but 
it  had  an  effect  upon  me,  as  I  didn't  know  any- 
thing about  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  profession. 
I  had  never  had  any  experience  in  it  in  my 
life,  and  I  was  appalled  by  his  story  of  what 
that  bad  man  could  do  in  the  way  of  contest- 
ing the  will  if  he  tried.  It  was  Bob's,  and 
why  couldn't  Bob  have  it?  In  a  new  State 
like  Texas,  law  was  not  considered  to  be  of  as 
much  use  as  it  was  in  some  older  communi- 
ties, and  there  was  but  one  thing  I  could 
think  of  to  use  in  Henderson's  case,  and  that 
was,  to  get  him  out  of  the  way.  I  looked  at 
Mr.  Chisholm  and  could  see  that  he  was 
thinking  of  the  same  thing. 

"There  is  but  one  way  out  of  it,"  he  con- 


188  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

tinned,  after  he  had  thought  the  matter  over, 
"and  that  is  a  revolver  shot.  That  will  end 
all  difficulty.  This  thing  that  he  has  got  on 
his  side  may  be  law,  but  it  is  not  justice." 

"There  maybe  a  better  way  than  that,"  I 
added,  for  I  was  disposed  to  be  a  boy  of 
peace,  "and  it  won't  do  any  harm  to  try  it, 
for  it  will  bring  mischief  to  no  one  but  Hen- 
derson. If  we  could  prove  that  he  was  in 
cahoots  with  Coyote  Bill " 

"  Set  me  down  for  a  blockhead  !  "  exclaimed 
Mr0  Chisholm,  once  more  extending  his  hand. 
"But  you  are  the  very  boy  I  want.  You 
think  of  everything  before  I  do.  Of  course 
we  can  prove  it,  for  didn't  you  and  Tom 
Mason  see  him  and  talk  with  him  when  he 
came  out  there  to  the  ranch?  Carlos,  you  be 
around  to-night,  for  we  are  going  to  Austin. 
We'll  take  along  sufficient  men  to  keep 
Coyote  Bill  away  from  us  if  he  sees  us  on  the 
way,  and  go  down  and  prove  the  will.  Now, 
keep  mum,  for  I  don't  want  any  man  around 
here  to  know  it.  So  long  !  " 

Mr.  Chisholm  and  I  returned  to  the  wagon, 
and  I  invited  myself  to  the  dinner  which 


OFF  FOR   AUSTIN.  189 

Elam  had  served  up  in  great  shape  for  Tom 
Mason.  Of  course  Bob  was  there  and  his  face 
was  radiant.  I  didn't  exactly  understand 
what  Mr.  Chisholm  meant  by  saying  that  we 
would  go  down  to  Austin  to  prove  the  will, 
but  I  was  in  for  it.  He  seemed  to  think  there 
was  going  to  be  a  fight  before  we  got  there, 
but  when  I  looked  at  Bob,  so  joyous  now 
when  he  had  been  so  distressed  and  cast 
down  when  he  thought  he  had  lost  all  his 
father's  property,  I  told  myself  that  I  was  in 
for  that  too.  There  was  one  thing  about  it : 
Clifford  Henderson  wouldn't  get  those  bonds, 
or  the  cattle  either,  by  simply  asking  for  them. 

"Tom  Mason  is  the  one  you  want  to  thank 
for  finding  that  pocket-book,"  I  said,  as  I  sal; 
down  beside  him.  "Elam,  have  you  got  a 
slice  of  bacon  for  me?" 

"  I  know  just  what  you  both  did  and  what 
you  passed  through  when  you  were  there," 
said  Bob.  "This  is  no  place  for  me  to  thank 
you.  I  will  do  that  at  some  future  time." 

For  the  first  time  it  occurred  to  me  that 
Bob  might  want  to  give  Tom  some  present  for 
being  so  lucky,  and  I  was  strongly  in  favor  of 


190  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

that.  For  myself  I  didn't  want  anything,  for 
I  had  sold  all  my  property  to  Uncle  Ezra,  who 
still  had  some  of  my  money  left  in  case  I 
should  happen  to  find  him  when  dead  broke ; 
but  Tom  had  suddenly  taken  it  into  his  head 
that  he  must  return  home  with  the  amount  of 
money  he  had  stolen  from  his  uncle,  and  I 
was  in  favor  of  helping  him  out.  When  Bob 
got  all  his  cattle  and  bonds  safe  to  himself, 
that  would  be  the  time  for  him  to  act.  I 
resolved  that  if  he  ever  said  anything  to 
me,  I  would  tell  him  just  what  I  thought 
about  it. 

Between  joking  and  laughing  and  driving 
on  the  wagon  to  meet  the  cowboys  at  night- 
fall, we  passed  the  time  agreeably  enough. 
Just  before  dark  we  came  within  sight  of  a 
grove  of  post-oaks  which  had  been  selected 
for  our  encampment,  and  "there  we  found  a 
colony  of  wagons  and  almost  all  the  cowboys. 
Mr.  Chisholm  was  there.  He  had  ridden  his 
horse  hard  all  the  afternoon  in  the  effort  to 
find  all  the  men  attached  to  his  outfit  to  sum- 
mon them  to  appear  at  this  hour,  and  when 
we  got  up  there  I  found  that  there  were  two 


OFF   FOR  AUSTIN.  191 

wagons  missing.  Everyone  was  glad  to  see 
Bob.  I  never  knew  that  boy  had  so  many 
friends,  especially  when  Lem  and  Frank  came 
up,  whom  Mr.  Chisholm  had  found  herding 
some  cattle  on  the  furthest  flanks.  Of  course 
they  shook  me  warmly  by  the  hand,  but 
devoted  the  most  of  their  time  and  attention 
to  Tom  Mason. 

"I  knowed  you  would  find  it,  pilgrim," 
said  Lem,  holding  fast  to  Tom  with  one  hand 
and  patting  him  on  the  shoulder  with  the 
other.  "Whenever  I  lose  anything  I  am 
going  to  send  you  after  it." 

Supper  didn't  take  much  time,  for  all  hands 
Avere  anxious  to  hear  what  was  in  the  will,  so 
as  soon  as  the  motions  had  been  gone  through 
they  flocked  up  around  the  wagon  to  listen. 
The  time  came  for  Mr.  Chisholm  to  lay  by 
his  pipe,  which  he  did,  and  drew  out  the 
pocket-book. 

"I  reckon  we'll  find  a  little  better  reading 
in  this  one  than  we  did  in  the  last,"  said  he, 
holding  it  up  where  all  could  see  it.  uHas 
our  friend  Henderson  come  in  yet?" 

Although    they   nil    knew  that   the   culprit 


192  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

was  miles  from  there  by  that  time,  they  all 
looked  at  each  other,  but  no  one  spoke. 

"I  reckon  he's  skipped,"  continued  Mr. 
Chisholm.  "'Cause  he  was  allowed  to  have 
the  reading  of  these  papers  I  hold  here ;  and 
when  he  said  we  were  all  thieves,  our  friends 
told  him  to  be  careful  how  he  showed  his  face 
in  our  camp  to-night.  The  first  paper  I  hold 
in  my  hand  is  indorsed :  '  The  last  will  and 
testament  of  Robert  Davenport.'  I  will  now 
read  it." 

Mr.  Chisholm  took  off  his  hat  and  laid  it 
down  beside  him,  and  in  a  much  slower  and 
more  deliberate  manner  than  he  had  used  in 
reading  the  contents  of  the  other  pocket-book, 
the  one  that  contained  the  receipts,  he  pro* 
ceeded  to  read  the  paper  he  held  in  his  hand. 
The  testator  made  Robert  Davenport  the  heir 
to  everything  he  possessed,  horses,  cattle,  and 
bonds,  which  were  deposited  for  safe  keeping 
in  the  Merchant  and  Cattlemen's  Bank  of 
Austin,  with  a  few  exceptions.  To  each  of  his 
cowboys,  "for  services  long  and  faithfully 
rendered,"  he  gave  the  sum  of  one  thousand 
dollars,  and  then  came  something  I  was  glad 


OFF  FOR  AUSTIN.  193 

to  see.  To  his  half-brother,  Clifford  Hen- 
derson, "  to  show  that  he  had  not  forgotten 
him,"  he  gave  the  sum  of  one  dollar,  and  he 
hoped  that  before  he  got  through  spending  it 
he  would  learn  that  honesty  was  the  best 
policy.  The  will  was  somewhat  long,  and  I 
was  pleased  to  note  one  thing  :  the  name  of 
the  bank  in  which  the  bonds  were  kept  did 
not  occur  on  the  first  page,  but  on  the  second  ! 
and  Henderson,  when  reading  it,  had  read  all 
he  wanted  to  see  on  the  first  page !  By  read- 
ing that  and  going  off  in  such  a  hurry  he 
tried  to  play  a  bluff  game  on  us.  He  did  not 
know  the  name  of  the  bank  at  all ! 

After  that  followed  the  letter  of  instruc- 
tions, which  was  so  plain  that  anybody  could 
have  understood  it,  and  it  wound  up  with  the 
entreaty  to  Bob  to  be  honest ;  but  having  been 
brought  up  all  his  life  in  that  way  the  testator 
did  not  think  that  Bob  would  depart  from  it. 
Bob  told  me  afterward  that  the  letter  talked 
just  as  plainly  as  his  father  would  to  him. 
Bob  was  very  much  overcome,  and  during  the 
reading  he  sat  with  his  hands  covering  his 
face,  and  I  could  see  the  tears  trickling 

13 


194  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

through  his  fingers.  By  the  time  Mr.  Chis- 
holm  was  through  all  the  cowboys  had  their 
hats  off.  He  folded  up  the  paper  and  waited 
for  somebody  to  make  known  his  pleasure 
concerning  it.  It  was  a  long  time  before 
anyone  spoke.  They  seemed  to  be  as  much 
affected  by  the  reading  of  the  will  as  Bob  was. 

"  The  will  seems  to  be  all  right,  Mr.  Judge," 
said  the  oldest  cattleman  at  last,  "and  I  move 
it  be  accepted  by  this  meeting." 

"  Second  the  motion  ! "  shouted  a  dozen  men 
at  once. 

The  motion  was  put  and  carried  (we  knew 
that  Henderson  didn't  have  a  friend  among 
those  cowboys),  and  then  the  pocket-book  was 
laid  upon  Bob's  knee.  He  was  a  rich  man  at 
last.  There  were  fifty  good  rifles  to  back  him 
up,  and  if  Henderson  or  any  of  Coyote  Bill's 
band  had  been  there  to  take  exceptions  to  it, 
he  would  have  been  roughly  handled.  At 
almost  any  other  time  they  would  have  called 
upon  Bob  for  a  speech,  but  instead  of  that 
they  let  him  go.  He  passed  the  pocket-book 
back  to  Mr.  Chisholm,  with  a  few  words  ex- 
pressive of  his  gratitude,  and  begged  him  to 


OFF  FOR  AUSTIN.  195 

keep  it  for  him  until  the  matter  was  quite 
settled,  and  arose  and  went  off  into  the  dark- 
ness. He  wanted  to  be  alone,  and  none  of  us 
intruded  upon  him. 

Mr.  Chisholm  was  now  prepared  to  carry 
out  the  rest  of  his  programme,  and  as  soon  as 
the  cattlemen  had  gone  away  he  called  some 
of  his  cowboys  to  him  and  told  them  he 
wanted  them  to  take  charge  of  Mr.  Daven- 
port's wagon  on  the  following  morning,  for  he 
was  going  to  Austin.  He  didn't  enter  into  any 
explanations,  for  a  ride  of  a  hundred  miles 
was  nothing  for  their  employer  to  undertake, 
but  they  agreed  at  once,  and  he  sent  them  away. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "the  next  thing  is  some- 
thing else.  All  you  boys  who  have  been 
remembered  in  Mr.  Davenport's  will,  sit  up 
close  around  me,  for  I  have  something  to  tell 
you.  We  must  go  to  Austin  as  quickly  as 
we  can,  for  we  don't  know  but  that  man  Hen- 
derson lias  gone  there  to  challenge  the  will." 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  say  a  word  right 
there,  Mr.  Chisholm?"  I  asked.  "That  man 
Henderson  doesn't  know  the  name  of  the 
bank  in  which  the  bonds  are  deposited." 


lf)6  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

"  How  do  you  know?" 

"  Because  he  read  only  the  first  page  of 
the  will.  If  you  took  pains  to  notice,  the 
name  doesn't  occur  except  on  the  second  page, 
and  consequently  he  could  not  have  seen  it." 

"Well,  by  George!  I  never  noticed  that. 
Did  any  of  you  boys  take  notice  of  it  1 
But  I  have  got  the  will  in  my  pocket. 
We  can  easily  satisfy  ourselves  on  that 
point.  It  is  so,"  he  added,  after  referring  to 
the  will,  "and  you  are  just  the  boy—  But 
look  here  !  If  Henderson  knows  how,  he  can 
just  go  down  there  and  challenge  the  will, 
anyway.  He  can  say  he  doesn't  like  the 
way  that  property  has  been  left,  and  so 
make  us  some  trouble  on  account  of  it." 

"Who  will  he  have  to  go  to  when  he 
challenges  it?"  I  asked. 

"Blessed  if  I  know  !" 

"I'd  just  like  to  meet  him  to-morrow," 
said  Frank. 

"Here  too,"  said  Lem.  "You  wouldn't 
have  to  do  all  your  shooting  alone,  I  can 
tell  you." 

"  But  you  see  you  aint  likely  to  meet  him," 


OFF   FOR  AUSTIN.  197 

said  Mr.  Chisholm.  "Now,  I  think  we  had 
better  go  to  Austin  right  straight,  in  order  to 
get  the  start  of  him.  Catch  up  !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  that  we  are  all  to  go?" 
I  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  do  mean  all  of  you  ;  everyone  who 
is  remembered  in  Mr.  Davenport's  will,  and 
Bob  and  those  of  us  who  witnessed  his 
signature.  Even  Elam  will  have  to  go,  for 
he  made  his  mark.  I  know  the  president  of 
that  bank  down  there,  for  he  holds  a  thousand 
dollars  or  two  of  my  money,  and  perhaps  a 
word  coming  from  me  will  help  straighten 
the  matter  out.  Lem,  you  and  Frank  get  the 
grub  together.  Elam,  you  hunt  up  Bob." 

And  this  was  all  the  ceremony  that  was 
employed  in  getting,  under  way.  In  a  few 
minutes  more  there  were  ten  of  us,  all  well 
mounted  and  armed  and  with  provisions 
enough  to  last  us  to  Austin,  who  rode  away 
from  the  camp.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  one 
thing,  and  that  was  if  Coyote  Bill  should  dis- 
cover us  and  try  to  get  that  pocket-book  away, 
he  would  have  a  good  time  in  doing  it. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

HENDERSON   IN   NEW  BUSINESS. 

"  IT  WILL  get  even  with  you  for  this.  Bob 
-L  is  not  your  son,  and  I  will  see  that  you 
don't  adopt  him,  either.  Whenever  I  see  a 
notice  of  your  death — and  you  can't  live  for- 
ever— I  will  hunt  that  boy  up  and  make  him 
know  what  it  is  to  be  in  want,  as  I  am  at  this 
moment." 

I  don't  suppose  that  when  Clifford  Hender- 
son shouted  this  defiance  at  his  brother,  on 
the  day  he  left  him,  after  Mr.  Davenport  had 
refused  to  take  any  further  steps  toward  pay- 
ing his  debts,  that  he  really  intended  to  go 
to  Texas,  or,  if  he  did,  he  never  expected  to 
meet  Bob  there.  He  wanted  to  get  away  by 
himself  and  think  over  his  misfortune  ;  for  he 
considered  it  a  misfortune  when  his  brother, 
who  was  fairly  rolling  in  wealth,  should  de- 
cline to  advance  him  the  small  sum  when  he 
was  so  much  in  need  of  it.  Henderson  was 

198 


HENDERSON   IN   NEW   BUSINESS.  199 

in  sore  straits — that  is,  for  him.  He  had 
money,  but  he  was  anxious  to  get  a  little 
more,  in  order  to  go  into  a  speculation  in 
which  he  was  certain  to  lose  all  he  had ;  and 
it  was  when  his  brother  declined  to  meet  this 
demand  that  he  went  into  a  rage. 

"Old  Bob  wants  me  to  go  to  work,"  said 
he,  as  he  turned  and  shook  his  fist  at  the 
house.  "Not  if  I  know  it !  I  have  seen  him, 
when  he  was  not  any  older  than  I  am,  looking 
around  for  a  chance  to  put  his  money  at  in- 
terest, and  he  never  would  have  anything  to 
do  with  what  I  suggested  to  him.  Never 
mind;  he  is  'most  dead  with  consumption, 
and  I  will  see  what  will  become  of  Bob  after 
that," 

When  he  got  a  little  further  along  the 
street  whom  should  he  meet  but  the  man 
with  whom  he  intended  to  go  into  the  specu- 
lation. It  was  buying  waste  land  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  city,  which  might  some  day  be 
profitable  enough,  but  which  would  take 
double  the  amount  that  he  had  to  improve  it. 

"  Well,  Clifford,  did  you  try  your 
brother?"  he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he  got 


200  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

within  speaking  distance.  "I  know  you 
have,  for  a  fellow  would  not  look  as  glum 
as  you  do  who  had  met  with  any  success." 

"Yes,  I  have  tried  him,"  said  Henderson, 
taking  the  opportunity  to  whisper  a  few 
choice  swear  words.  "  I  have  tried  him,  and 
he  can't  see  it.  He  had  but  a  few  dollars  left, 
and  he  wants  to  invest  that  for  Bob.  Bob  ! 
Everything  is  for  Bob !  I  wish  I  could  get 
rid  of  that  boy." 

"  You  know  I  told  you,  when  he  came  back 
from  the  mines  and  brought  that  boy  with 
him,  that  your  cake  was  all  dough,"  said  his 
friend,  who  was  about  as  disgusted  as  a  man 
could  well  be.  "Why  did  not  you  take  my 
a.dvice  and  put  him  away  long  ago  ? " 

"Because  I  was  a  fool — that's  why!  You 
see  I  was  afraid  somebody  would  get 
onto  it." 

"They  won't  if  you  do  as  I  tell  you.  But 
it  is  none  of  my  funeral.  If  you  can't  go  into 
the  speculation  I  must  go  and  hunt  up  some- 
body else.  I  must  have  some  of  those  acres 
up  there,  for  I  know  there  is  money  in  them. 
Before  I  would  be  tied  down  by  a  little  boy ! 


HENDERSON   IN   NEW   BUSINESS.  201 

Good  gracious  !  Why  don't  you  push  him 
overboard? " 

"I  never  have  a  chance  to  go  fishing  with 
him,"  said  Henderson. 

"No  matter.  You  could  make  chances 
enough,  I  dare  say.  How  does  the  boy  feel 
toward  you  ? " 

4 'Friendly  enough.  I  don't  think  old  Bob 
has  mentioned  my  name  to  him  for  a  long 
time." 

"  Does  his  tutor  go  with  him  everywhere  ?  " 

"  Yes,  everywhere.  He  can't  go  out  around 
the  block  without  the  tutor  sticks  close  at  his 
heels.  If  he  would  only  send  the  boy  to 
school  I  would  have  a  better  show." 

"  Do  you  know  where  the  boy  sleeps  ? " 

"  I  bet  you  I  do,  but  I  don't  intend  to  fool 
around  there,"  said  Henderson,  growing 
a  j!  armed.  "  He  sleeps  in  a  room  opening  off 
from  the  tutor's,  and  I  tell  you  I  wouldn't 
take  a  hand  in  it.  That  tutor  is  a  big  man 
and  is  a  match  for  both  of  us." 

"Could  he  get  away  with  a  sand-bag?" 
said  the  friend,  shutting  one  eye  and  looking 
at  Henderson  with  the  other.  "  A  man  has 


202  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

to  be  wide  awake  to  meet  such  a  thing  as 
that." 

"You  may  try  it  if  you  want  to,  and  I'll 
give  you  half  you  make,"  said  Henderson. 
"My  brother  is  going  to  die  in  the  course  of  a 
year  or  two,  and  by  the  end  of  that  time  I 
shall  have  money  enough." 

"  You  can  if  he  dies  without  making  a  will ; 
but  how  do  you  intend  to  get  around  it  if  he 
names  the  boy  as  his  heir  ? " 

"If  he  doesn't  a(Jopt  him  it  is  all  right.  I 
tell  you  that  would  make  me  mad.  In  that 
case  I  should  probably  wake  up  and  do 
something,  and  I  should  find  myself  in  jail 
before  I  was  a  week  older." 

"  Not  if  you  manage  rightly.  But  I  must 
go  on.  I  must  have  that  land  before  three 
o'clock  or  the  fat  will  all  be  in  the  fire." 

The  friend  walked  away  and  Henderson 
kept  on  his  road  down  the  street.  We  can 
see  from  his  conversation  that  he  was  not  a 
bad  man  at  heart,  but  he  ought  to  have  been 
rich,  and  in  that  case  he  would  in  a  very  short 
time  have  found  himself  penniless.  His  ex- 
pectations ran  greatly  ahead  of  his  income, 


HENDERSON   IN   NEW   BUSINESS.  203 

which  at  this  time  amounted  to  just  nothing 
at  all.  All  he  made  aside  from  his  brother's 
allowance  was  what  he  gained  from  little 
speculations,  and,  furthermore,  he  was  in  the 
hands  of  men  who  generally  called  on  him  for 
everything  they  wanted,  and  with  a  fair  pros- 
pect of  getting  it.  But  now  that  Mr.  Daven- 
port had  refused  him  any  more  money, — he 
had  told  him  in  plain  language  that  he  would 
have  to  pay  his  own  debts  in  future, — their 
occupation  was  gone,  and  they  must  look  else- 
where. He  sent  for  his  clothing  during  the 
day,  and  took  up  his  abode  at  the  hotel, 
where  he  tried  to  make  up  his  mind  what  he 
ought  to  do. 

"  I  have  my  choice  between  two  courses  of 
action,"  said  he,  as  he  lighted  a  cigar  and  sat 
down  in  his  room  to  think  the  matter  over. 
"  One  is,  to  shut  Bob  up  in  a  lunatic  asylum  ; 
and  the  other  is,  to  go  fishing  with  him  and 
shove  him  overboard.  Now,  if  anyone  can 
tell  me  which  of  those  two  is  the  safest,  I  will 
be  ready  to  listen  to  him.  Nothing  else 
seems  likely  to  happen  to  him." 

The  worst  of    it  all    was,    Mr.   Davenport 


204  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

knew  that  something  was  about  to  happen  to 
Bob.  Almost  a  year  before,  when  Mr.  Daven- 
port had  refused  to  advance  money  for  some 
of  Henderson's  schemes,  the  latter  had  so  far 
forgotten  himself  as  to  make  threats  against 
Bob.  It  alarmed  his  father,  who  at  once  took 
Bob  out  of  school  and  placed  him  under  the 
protection  of  a  private  teacher,  a  stalwart 
man,  a  born  athlete,  and  ready  to  hold  his 
own  against  all  the  men  that  Henderson  could 
bring  against  him.  He  slept,  too,  in  a  room 
adjoining  Bob's,  so  that  the  boy  was  under 
his  care  night  and  day.  And  it  was  all  done 
so  quietly  that  Bob  never  suspected  any  tiling. 
Wherever  he  went  his  tutor  was  ready  to  go 
with  him  ;  he  was  a  man  whom  he  liked,  and 
he  supposed  that  everything  was  just  as  it 
should  be. 

"That  was  a  bad  thing  for  me,"  soliloquized 
Henderson,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  cigar. 
"If  I  had  kept  still  about  that  I  might  have 
got  rid  of  Bob,  and  no  one  would  have  been 
the  wiser  for  it,  but  now  he  is  lost  to  me." 

Of  course  his  determination  to  push  Bob 
overboard  when  he  went  fishing  with  him  was 


HENDERSON  IN  NEW  BUSINESS.  205 

knocked  in  the  head  by  this  arrangement,  and 
so  was  his  desire  to  steal  him  away  and  lock 
him  up.  This  last,  which  was  the  idea  of 
the  man  he  had  left  but  a  few  minutes  ago, 
held  out  brighter  promises  than  anything 
else ;  and  he  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to 
engage  the  doctor  who  was  to  take  charge  of 
it,  promising  him  five  thousand  dollars  when 
the  boy  was  delivered  into  his  hands,  and  as 
much  more  if  his  object  was  successful.  But 
there  he  stopped.  Henderson  didn'  t  have  the 
pluck  to  go  ahead  with  it,  and  there  the 
matter  laid  for  over  a  year.  Now  it  was 
brought  back  to  him  with  redoubled  force. 
Everything  was  going  to  Bob ;  he  could  see 
that  plainly  enough,  and  it  was  high  time  he 
was  doing  something.  In  fact,  it  had  been 
that  way  ever  since  Mr.  Davenport  returned 
from  the  mines  with  this  little  nuisance, 
picked  up  none  knew  where. 

"  He  must  go,  and  that's  all  about  it,"  said 
Henderson,  rising  from  his  chair  and  hur- 
riedly pacing  the  room.  "If  he  won't  go 
overboard  he  must  be  locked  up  ;  my  luck 
and  everything  else  depend  upon  it.  I  will 


206  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

go  out  now  and  see  what  Scanlan  has  to  say 
about  it,  for  I  am  determined  that  I  will  not 
put  up  with  him  any  longer." 

Scanlan  was  the  friend  he  had  left  an  hour 
or  so  before,  and  when  found  he  didn't  have 
the  money  to  enable  him  to  go  on  with  that 
speculation.  There  were  few  Hendersons  in 
the  field  for  him  to  call  upon,  and  they  were 
as  hard  up  as  he  was. 

"I  guess  the  land  will  have  to  go  to  some- 
body else,"  said  he,  as  he  described  his  ill 
luck.  "I  want  just  five  hundred  dollars,  and 
nobody  seems  to  have  it." 

"I  could  get  it,  if  it  were  not  for  my 
brother,"  said  Henderson ;  and  when  he 
spoke  the  word  "brother"  he  fairly  hissed  it 
through  his  teeth.  Scanlan  looked  up  in  sur- 
prise. "Have  I  forgotten  to  tell  you  that  old 
Bob  invariably  speaks  of  that  little  snipe  as 
my  brother?"  he  continued.  "He  has  been 
with  him  now  for  four  years,  and  he  thinks 
that  I  can  get  used  to  calling  him  by  a  rela- 
tionship that  really  never  existed." 

"  How  old  is  the  boy,  anyhow  ? " 

"  Seven  years  old.     Old  Bob  took  him  when 


HENDERSON   IN   NEW   BUSINESS.  207 

he  was  only  three.  I  only  wish  the  Indians 
had  come  down  on  them  and  massacred  the 
last  one  of  the  lot.  Not  old  Bob,  of  course, 
for  I  am  indebted  to  him  for  a  pocketful  of 
rocks,  but  that  young  one  I  wish  I  had  never 
seen." 

"I  don't  see  what  his  pocketful  of  rocks 
has  got  to  do  with  you,"  said  Scanlan. 

"Neither  do  I.  I  do  think,"  added  Hen- 
derson,  as  though  he  was  considering  the 
matter  for  the  first  time,  "  that  if  I  would  go 
home  and  behave  myself,  and  wait  until  the 
old  man  dies,  I  could  really  get  hold  of  some 
of  his  money,  but  how  much  would  I  get? 
Not  twenty  thousand,  and  that  isn't  enough 
to  buy  an  oyster  supper." 

uHow  much  is  the  old  man  worth?" 
"I  don't  know.     A  cool  million." 
"Whew!"   whistled   Scanlan.      "And  are 
you  going  to  stay  back  and  let  that  boy  cheat 
you  out  of  it?    If  you  do  I  shall  never  be 
sorry  for  you." 

"That's  is  just  what  I  don't  want  to  do, 
and  I  came  down  here  to  talk  to  you  about 
kidnapping  him  and  putting  him  under  lock 


208  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

and  key,"  continued  Henderson,  looking  all 
around  to  make  sure  that  no  one  overheard 
him.  "I  say  let  him  be  locked  up  at  once." 

"  Now  you  are  talking,"  said  Scanlan.  "If 
you  had  decided  on  that  several  years  ago  you 
would  have  had  no  trouble ;  but  now  I  tell 
you  it  is  going  to  be  uphill  work.  We've  got 
the  tutor  to  overcome,  and  that  is  going  to  be 
all  that  we  two  can  do.  Now,  what  do  you 
propose?" 

A  long  conversation  followed,  and  the  sub- 
stance was  that  the  matter  was  left  entirely 
in  the  hands  of  his  friend  Scanlan.  Hender- 
son had  never  been  in  the  habit  of  defying 
the  police  by  engaging  in  any  kidnapping 
schemes,  and  he  did  not  propose  to  begin  now. 
He  wanted  the  boy  got  rid  of,  when  and  how 
he  didn'  t  care,  so  long  as  no  effort  was  made 
against  his  life.  That  was  too  dangerous. 
And  there,  we  may  add,  the  thing  rested  for  a 
whole  year,  until  one  day  Henderson  heard 
something  in  a  few  moments'  talk  with  the 
tutor,  who  had  waited  outside  while  his  pupil 
was  in  a  store  making  some  purchases,  that 
set  him  post  haste  after  Scanlan. 


HENDERSON   IN   NEW    BUSINESS.  209 

"The  dog  is  dead  now,"  said  he,  drawing 
Scanlan  into  a  doorway  where  they  could  talk 
without  being  overheard,  "and  I  don't  know 
whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry  over  it.  My 
brother  is  going  to  Texas  ! " 

"To  Texas?"  exclaimed  Scanlan.  "What 
in  the  world  should  take  him  into  that  far-off 
region  ?" 

"He  had  a  relative  down  there  engaged  in 
the  cattle  business,  and  he  has  died  leaving 
his  property  to  old  Bob.  Don't  it  beat  the 
world  how  some  fellows  can  get  along  without 
lifting  their  hands  ?  Now,  if  he  had  left  those 
cattle  to  me  who  stand  so  much  in  need  of 
them " 

"If  that  boy  goes  to  Texas  he'll  be  out  of 
reach  of  you,"  interrupted  Scanlan. 

"  Yes  ;  but  see  what  danger  he'll  be  in." 

"I  don't  know  that  he  will  be  in  any  dan- 
ger— more  than  he  is  here,"  said  Scanlan. 
"  Remember  that  if  he  stays  there  long 
enough  to  get  acquainted  he  will  have  any 
number  of  rifles  to  back  him  up." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? " 

"  Why,    supposing    his    father    dies    and 

14 


210  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

leaves  no  will.  It  would  put  you  to  some 
trouble  to  prove  that  you  are  next  of  kin. 
You  see  your  names  are  different.  If  they 
made  up  their  minds  that  he  was  the  heir,  it 
would  be  good-by  to  you." 

"  And  you  believe  it  would  be  best  to  kid- 
nap him  very  soon?"  asked  Henderson,  his 
courage  all  leaving  him. 

"  Certainly  I  do !  If  he  goes  down  there 
you  are  a  poor  man  for  your  lifetime.  Now 
is  the  chance.  I  tell  you  I  would  not  miss  it 
for  anything  !  " 

This  brought  the  matter  squarely  home  to 
Henderson,  and  he  decided  that  he  would 
take  that  night  to  sleep  upon  it.  He  rolled 
and  tossed  on  his  bed  without  ever  closing  his 
eyes  in  slumber,  and  when  morning  came  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  do  something. 

"  Scanlan  will  have  to  do  it  all,"  said  he, 
and  his  compressed  lips  showed  that  he  had 
looked  at  the  matter  in  all  its  bearings.  "I 
will  keep  just  behind  him  and  show  him  the 
room  where  the  boy  sleeps,  and  he  can  throw 
the  quilt  over  him  and  secure  him  without 
any  help  from  me.  Then  if  that  old  tutor  of 


HENDERSON   IN   NEW   BUSINESS.  211 

his  jumps  in  on  us,  why  I  will  get  out  of  the 
way.  But  I  must  leave  my  way  of  escape 
clear." 

Henderson  carried  out  his  programme  by 
going  to  the  bank,  drawing  out  his  money,  and 
depositing  it  somewhere  about  his  person. 
Then  he  packed  his  trunk  as  if  for  a  long 
journey,  and  then  told  Scanlan  that  he  was 
ready  for  business. 

' '  I  knew  that  was  the  decision  you  would 
come  to,  so  I  got  the  carriage  and  made  it  all 
right  with  the  driver,"  said  Scanlan.  "I 
have  got  an  extension  bit,  which  is  about  the 
only  thing  we  need,  to  enable  us  to  get  in 
through  the  basement  door.  Now,  Cliff,  how 
much  am  I  going  to  get  for  this  ?  I  do  all  the 
work  and  you  stand  by  and  look  on.  I  ought 
to  have  a  considerable  sum  for  that." 

"Why,  I  guess  what  I  am  to  give  the 
doctor —  '  began  Henderson. 

"JSTot  much,"  said  Scanlan,  with  a  laugh. 
"What  you  will  give  the  doctor  won't  faze 
me.  Say  a  tenth  of  what  you  make." 

"Oh,  my  goodness!"  stammered  Hender- 
son. 


212  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

"I  have  got  the  paper  here,  it  is  all  drawn 
up,  and  I  guess  it  is  all  right,"  continued 
Scanlan,  drawing  a  folded  document  from  his 
inside  pocket.  "Just  run  your  eye  over 
that." 

"A  hundred  thousand!"  gasped  Hender- 
son. 

"That  isn't  a  drop  in  the  bucket  to  what 
you  will  have  if  you  succeed,"  said  Scanlan 
coolly.  "You  will  see  that  the  paper  says 
*  if  successful.'  If  you  don't  succeed  in  the 
job,  why  that  is  my  lookout.  If  you  do,  I 
shall  want  the  money.  If  the  arrangement 
doesn't  suit  you,  get  somebody  else  to  try 
his  hand." 

That  was  just  what  Henderson  was  afraid 
of,  and  things  had  gone  too  far  for  him  to 
b^ck  out.  He  felt  as  though  he  was  signing 
his  death  warrant  when  he  was  affixing  his 
signature  to  the  document,  but  when  it  was 
done  the  writing  did  not  look  much  like  his 
bold  penmanship. 

"So  far  so  good,"  said  Scanlan,  coolly  sur- 
veying the  signature.  "But  you  are  a  little 
nervous,  Cliff.  Now  you  keep  that  tutor  off 


HENDERSON   IN  NEW   BUSINESS.  213 

me  and  I  will  get  the  boy.  You  meet  me  here 
at  ten  o'clock,  and  when  morning  comes  that 
fellow  will  be  under  lock  and  key." 

"I  have  done  it,"  said  Henderson,  going 
out  on  the  street  and  wending  his  way  toward 
his  brother's  house.  "  I  have  gone  too  far  to 
back  out.  Here  I  have  gone  and  signed  a 
paper  and  placed  it  in  the  hands  of  that  man 
Scanlan,  and  he  can  use  it  on  me  at  a  mo- 
ment's warning.  He's  a  desperate  fellow.  I 
wish  I  felt  as  certain  of  success  as  he  does." 

Somebody  has  said  that  when  a  man  is 
going  to  the  bad  he  finds  everything  greased 
for  the  occasion  ;  that  is,  he  finds  it  easy 
enough  to  go  down  hill ;  but  almost  impossible 
for  him  to  get  back.  I  am  not  well  enough 
posted  in  literature  to  know  who  it  was  that 
said  it,  but  perhaps  some  of  you  boys  who  are 
fresh  from  your  books  may  be  able  to  name 
the  person.  Henderson  found  it  so,  and  it  all 
dated  from  the  moment  he  signed  that  paper. 
He  was  afraid  to  back  out  now,  and  so  he  must 
go  on.  He  walked  by  his  brother's  house 
once  or  twice,  and  then  went  back  to  his 
hotel.  He  didn't  eat  any  supper,  and  he 


214  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

didn't  want  any ;  but  when  it  came  near 
time  for  him  to  meet  Scanlan  he  stepped 
into  a  store  and  bought  a  heavy  oak  stick, 
which  he  thought  would  be  strong  enough  to 
floor  the  tutor  or  anybody  else  that  took  a 
hand  in  rescuing  the  boy,  and  pronounced  him- 
self ready  for  the  business.  There  were  still 
three  hours  for  them  to  pass  in  some  way,  for 
Scanlan  did  not  think  it  safe  to  make  a  move 
before  one  o'clock,  and  the  time  seemed  to 
slip  away  before  they  knew  it.  They  found 
the  carriage  right  where  Scanlan  said  they 
would,  and  in  a  few  minutes  were  set  down 
within  a  few  doors  of  Mr.  Davenport's  house. 
When  they  got  out  the  hack-driver  thought  it 
time  to  speak  about  his  money. 

"  Look  here  !  "  said  he  ;  "  which  one  of  you 
gentlemen  is  a-going  to  pay  me  a  hundred 
dollars  for  this  trip  ?  Kidnapping  a  sane 
person  and  taking  him  off  to  a  lunatic 
asylum— 

"My  dear  sir,  kidnapping  is  something 
we  don't  have  any  hand  in  at  all,"  said 
Scanlan.  "  We  are  going  to  take  this  fellow 
out  of  the  house  with  the  full  consent  of 


HENDERSON   IN   NEW   BUSINESS.  215 

his  father,  but  we  don't  want  his  aunts  to 
know  anything  about  it.  The  hundred  dol- 
lars are  all  right.  This  man  is  a  detective, 
and  will  pay  you  when  we  get  the  passenger 
to  the  asylum.  Are  you  satisfied  \  " 

The  hack-driver  had  nothing  further  to  say. 
All  he  wanted  to  know  was  who  would  give 
him  his  money  when  the  trip  was  over  He 
mounted  to  his  box,  being  instructed  to  keep 
himself  within  hailing  distance,  and  the  two 
kept  on  toward  Mr.  Davenport's  residence. 
All  was  dark  and  silent  within,  except  the 
light  that  was  kept  burning  in  the  tutor's 
room. 

"  We  have  got  to  keep  out  of  that,"  said 
Henderson,  pointing  toward  the  window.  "If 
we  allow  ourselves  to  come  within  reach  of 
it  I  shall  be  recognized  ;  then  good-by  to 
me." 

"Well,  we  must  look  out  for  that,"  said 
Scanlan,  who  did  not  feel  any  more  fear  than 
if  he  was  sitting  down  to  his  supper.  "Keep 
close  beside  me,  and  be  ready  to  knock  the 
tutor  down  if  he  takes  a  hand  in  the  rumpus. 
That's  all  you  have  to  do." 


216  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  reached  the  basement 
door,  where  they  were  free  from  interruption, 
and  Scanlan,  producing  his  extension  bit,  went 
to  work  in  earnest.  He  first  cut  out  a  circular 
opening  in  the  door  above  the  bolt,  then 
thrust  his  hand  in  and  cautiously  removed 
the  fastenings,  and  the  door  swung  open. 
They  entered  and  Scanlan  closed  the  door 
behind  him. 

"I  think  you  had  better  leave  it  open," 
said  Henderson,  who  trembled  as  if  he  was 
seized  with  a  sudden  attack  of  the  ague. 
1  'We  might  be  discovered." 

"In  that  case  we'll  have  something  to 
light  us  out,"  said  Scanlan.  "  But  be  sure 
you  kick  over  the  blaze  before  you  go 
out." 

With  the  words  Scanlan  took  from  his 
pocket  a  small  piece  of  candle,  which  he 
lighted  and  stood  upon  the  table,  embedded  in 
some  of  its  own  grease.  Then  he  stopped  and 
looked  around  him.  The  house  was  silent  as 
if  it  had  been  deserted,  and  having  satisfied 
himself  on  this  point,  Scanlan  motioned  for 
Henderson  to  lead  the  way  up  the  stairs. 


HENDEKSON  IN   NEW   BUSINESS.  217 

The  steps  were  carpeted,  and  moreover,  being 
shod  with  rubbers,  the  men  gave  out  no  sound 
as  they  ascended  to  the  first  floor,  the  leader 
easily  finding  and  opening  all  doors  that 
barred  his  progress.  That  one  lock  passed 
at  the  basement  door  had  opened  the  way 
for  them. 

At  length  they  came  to  the  front  hall,  and 
here  some  more  strategy  was  made  use  of. 
Henderson  carefully  unlocked  the  door  and 
placed  the  key  on  the  outside,  and  then  cau- 
tiously led  the  way  up  the  second  stairs  to  the 
floor  above.  He  stopped  every  once  in  a  while 
to  listen,  but  he  heard  nothing  suspicious, 
and  presently  pushed  open  a  door  that  gave 
entrance  into  the  room  in  which  the  little 
boy  was  sleeping.  With  a  motion  of  his 
hand,  Henderson  pointed  him  out,  and  then 
moved  through  the  room  to  take  a  look  at  the 
tutor.  He  lay  upon  his  back  with  his  arms 
extended  over  his  head,  revealing  muscles 
that  made  Henderson  tremble.  Something,  I 
don't  know  what  it  was,  went  through  the 
tutor  all  of  a  sudden,  and  he  started  up  in 
alarm  to  find  a  strange  face  in  his  door 


218  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

He  gazed  at  it  a  moment,  and  then  thrust 
his  hand  under  his  pillow/  When  it  came 
out  it  had  a  revolver  in  its  grasp.  Hender- 
son took  one  look  at  it  and  turned  and  took 
to  his  heels. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HE  DOES  NOT   SUCCEED. 

"  ~r"T"ALT!  Clifford  Henderson,  I  know 
JLJL  you!"  shouted  the  tutor,  in  a  sten- 
torian voice,  as  he  threw  off  the  bedclothes 
and  started  on  a  furious  race  for  the  intruder. 
"I  know  you,  and  you  had  better  halt." 

He  supposed,  of  course,  that  the  object  of 
his  visit  was  robbery— and  had  no  intention  of 
using  one  of  the  cartridges  in  his  revolver — 
until  he  came  to  his  bedroom  door  and  there 
saw  Scanlan,  who  had  thrown  a  quilt  over  the 
boy's  head  and  started  on  a  run  after  Hender- 
son, and  then  he  stopped  as  if  somebody  had 
aimed  a  blow  at  him.  Then  he  saw  that 
abduction  was  a  part  of  Henderson's  scheme, 
and  in  an  instant  his  revolver  was  covering 
Scanlan' s  head. 

"Put  that  boy  back  on  the  bed  where  he 
belongs,"  said  the  tutor. 

219 


220  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

Scanlan  took  one  look  at  the  revolver,  and 
at  the  man  who  held  it,  and  readily  obeyed. 

"Now  throw  the  quilt  off  his  head,  so  that 
he  can  breathe,"  said  the  tutor  ;  and  the  readi- 
ness with  which  Scanlan  complied  disarmed 
the  tutor,  who  lowered  his  revolver. 

This  was  the  move  that  Scanlan  was  waiting 
for.  In  an  instant  he  dropped  on  all-fours, 
shot  under  the  out-stretched  hand  that  held 
the  deadly  weapon,  caught  the  tutor  around 
the  legs  and  tumbled  him  over  on  his  back. 
It  was  all  done  with  the  greatest  ease,  and 
when  the  tutor  scrambled  to  his  feet  Scanlan 
had  disappeared.  He  ran  hastily  to  the  head 
of  the  stairs,  and  he  saw  Scanlan' s  coat-tails 
vanishing  as  he  made  his  way  to  the  base- 
ment. He  had  tried  the  front  door,  but  Hen- 
derson had  gone  out  there  and  had  locked  the 
door  behind  him.  The  tutor  tried  the  front- 
basement  door  also,  and  in  the  meantime 
Scanlan  had  already  gone  out  at  that  very 
door,  not  forgetting  to  knock  over  the  candle 
in  his  hurried  flight.  That  was  the  last  they 
saw  of  Scanlan.  By  the  time  the  tutor  had 
returned  to  his  room  he  found  Mr.  Daven- 


HE  DOES   NOT   SUCCEED.  221 

port  there,  sitting  on  the  bed  and  talking  to 
Bob. 

' '  Why,  this  looks  like  a  case  of  abduc- 
tion," said  Mr.  Davenport,  when  the  tutor 
came  in.  "Did  I  hear  you  say  that  you 
recognized  Clifford  Henderson  as  one  of  the 
assailants?" 

"Well,  I  thought  it  was  he,  but  I  might 
have  been  mistaken,"  replied  the  tutor,  who 
did  not  want  to  say  anything  that  would  add 
to  the  old  man's  fears. 

"Don't  deceive  me.  I  heard  your  voice 
plain  enough,  and  that  was  what  you  said. 
Never  mind,  Bob.  We'll  soon  be  far  enough 
away  from  him,  and  able  to  enjoy  life  in  our 
own  way.  Now  I  will  go  back  to  bed.  No  ; 
the  men  had  to  take  themselves  off  without 
getting  anything,"  he  added,  to  the  servants 
who  came  flocking  into  the  room  at  that 
moment.  "I  wish  you  would  find  out  where 
they  got  in  and  shut  the  window  or  door, 
whichever  it  is.  Clifford  Henderson !  That 
man  isn't  going  to  let  me  forget  him,  is  he?" 
he  muttered  to  himself.  "  I  must  see  him  and 
tell  him  that  if  he  does  not  leave  town  I  shall 


222  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

have  him  arrested.  I  shall  remember  the 
tutor  for  this." 

And  in  the  meantime  where  was  Clifford 
Henderson?  You  know  that  before  he  went 
into  this  business  he  drew  his  money  from  the 
bank  and  packed  his  trunk  for  a  long  jour- 
ney. He  saw  the  need  of  it  now.  He  never 
travelled  faster  than  he  did  when  he  rushed 
from  that  door.  He  saw  Scanlan  in  the  act  of 
lifting  the  boy  from  the  bed  after  throwing 
the  quilt  about  him,  but  did  not  stop  to  speak 
to  him.  He  made  for  the  stairs,  two  jumps 
took  him  to  the  front  door,  and  paying  no 
heed  to  the  friend  he  had  left  behind  in  a  bad 
scrape,  he  ran  through  and  locked  the  door 
behind  him.  And  he  had  heard  his  name 
mentioned,  too! 

"I  declare  I  am  done  for  now,"  muttered 
Henderson,  as  he  took  his  best  pace  down  the 
sidewalk,  utterly  forgetful  that  there  was  a 
carriage  in  waiting  for  him,  "and  the  next 
thing  will  be  to  avoid  the  police  that  my 
brother  sets  after  me.  For  he  will  arrest  me 
as  sure  as  I  live.  Scanlan  will  be  arrested 
too,  and  there  is  that  paper  I  gave  him  with 


HE  DOES   NOT  SUCCEED.  223 

my  name  signed  to  it.  Ow!  Ow  !  Don't  I 
wish  that  everybody  was  in  danger  the  same 
as  I  am?" 

If  Henderson  hadn't  been  so  frightened  that 
he  was  unable  to  look  behind  him,  he  would 
have  seen  Scanlan  come  out  of  the  basement 
door  and  take  his  flight  in  another  direction ; 
but  Henderson  couldn't  think  of  anything  but 
the  tutor's  stentorian  voice.  "I  know  you 
and  you  had  better  halt !  "  It  seemed  to  ring 
in  his  ears  louder  than  ever  the  farther  he  got 
from  the  house,  so  that  he  increased  his  pace, 
and  the  first  thing  he  knew  ran  slap  into  the 
arms  of  a  policeman,  who  happened  at  that 
moment  to  come  around  the  corner. 

" Hallo,  here!"  cried  the  officer.  " Where 
are  you  going  in  such  a  hurry  ? " 

"  .Do  you  know  whether  or  not  the  Common- 
wealth  has  sailed  from  this  port  yet?"  asked 
Henderson. 

"No,  I  don't!"  answered  the  officer. 

"Well,  my  trunk  is  at  my  hotel,  already 
packed,  and  I  am  in  haste  to  catch  her.  I 
hope  I  shall  get  there  before  she  sails." 

"  Why  don't  you  take  a  carriage  ? " 


224  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"I  will  just  as  soon  as  I  get  to  my  hotel. 
Which  way  is  the  Planter's  House  from 
here?'' 

"Go  down  this  street  to  the  next  corner, 
and  then  go  five  blocks.  Good  luck  to  you  ! " 

"That  thing  is  done  easy  enough,  but  the 
next  policeman  that  stops  me  will  be  worse," 
said  Henderson,  continuing  on  his  way. 
"He'll  say  there  is  a  signature  waiting  for 
you  that  I  want  you  to  explain,  and  how  will 
I  get  out  of  it?  Well,  we'll  wait  until  that 
time  comes.  I  must  do  the  best  I  can  to 
escape  now." 

Henderson  knew  where  the  Planter's  House 
was  as  well  as  anybody,  but  he  followed  the 
policeman's  directions.  By  the  time  he 
reached  his  destination  he  was  pretty  well 
winded.  He  engaged  a  carriage  at  the  door, 
paid  his  bill  at  the  hotel,  and  saw  his  trunk 
perched  up  beside  the  driver. 

uGo  fast  now,  for  I  have  not  a  minute  to 
waste,"  said  Henderson.  "Get  me  down 
there  before  that  steamer  sails  and  I  will  give 
you  two  dollars." 

In  an  hour  more  Henderson  was  snug  in  bed 


HE   DOES   NOT   SUCCEED.  225 

and  listening  to  the  puffing  of  the  engines 
which  were  bearing  him  down  the  river.  He 
had  taken  passage  on  a  little  boat  that  was 
bound  for  New  Orleans  and  had  the  room  all 
to  himself.  In  spite  of  his  joy  over  his  escape 
he  could  not  help  feeling  bitter  toward  Scan- 
Ian.  Why  had  he  signed  that  paper  ?  Scan- 
Ian  would  be  sure  to  be  apprehended, — he 
couldn't  get  away  from  that  pistol, — and  he 
would  be  searched  at  the  police  court,  and  the 
whole  thing  would  come  out  against  him. 

"  Never  mind  ;  he's  in  a  bad  fix  "  said  Hen- 
derson, pounding  a  pillow  into  shape  to  fit  his 
head.  "  And  I  don't  know  but  that  I  am  in  a 
worse  one.  I  hope  they  will  send  him  up  so 
that  I  will  never  see  him  again.  And  then 
what  will  my  friends  think?" 

Filled  with  such  thoughts  as  these  we  may 
readily  conceive  that  Henderson's  journey 
down  the  river  was  not  a  pleasant  one,  and  it 
was  only  after  they  had  left  Cairo,  and  were 
fairly  afloat  for  New  Orleans,  that  he  recov- 
ered his  usual  spirits.  He  remained  in  New 
Orleans  for  a  single  day,  and  then  took  pas- 
sage for  Galveston,  from  which  place  he  went 

15 


226  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

to  Austin.  He  deposited  his  money  there  in 
the  bank,  secured  a  second  rate  boarding- 
house,  and  settled  down  to  see  what  the  fates 
had  in  store  for  him. 

"Thank  goodness,  I  am  a  free  man  at 
last !  "  said  Henderson.  "  I  have  not  heard  a 
word  from  St.  Louis  since  I  left  there,  but  I 
only  hope  Scanlan  has  got  his  just  dues\. 
And  here  is  the  place  Bob  was  going  to  come-. 
Well,  I'll  keep  clear  of  him.  I  hope  I  may 
never  hear  of  him  again." 

As  the  years  rolled  by  and  nothing  XV  as 
heard  about  his  attempted  abduction  of  Bob, 
or  of  Scanlan  either,  Henderson  began  to 
think  that  the  matter  was  forgotten.  By 
behaving  himself  Henderson  made  many 
friends  in  Texas,  for  it  is  not  always  the  good 
who  have  blessings  showered  upon  them 
except  in  story  books.  He  made  an  honest 
effort  at  reform,  and  it  is  possible  that  he 
might  have  succeeded  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
one  thing.  He  was  a  speculator  in  cattle, — he 
never  was  known  as  anything  else, — and  he 
finally  got  into  the  habit  of  riding  out  on  the 
prairie,  taking  no  money  with  him,  to  see 


HE  DOES   NOT  SUCCEED.  227 

what  he  could  buy.  For  Texas  was  a  new 
State,  we  had  only  just  got  through  the  war 
with  Mexico,  and  everybody  who  had  any 
wrong  done  him,  or  had  got  into  difficulty 
with  his  fellow-man,  came  to  Texas  to  begin 
over  again.  Anyone,  too,  who  found  the  law 
too  strict  for  him  in  older  communities,  could 
come  here  and  get  out  of  the  reach  of  it. 

On  one  occasion  Henderson  started  out 
alone  to  visit  some  ranches  he  had  heard  of, 
but  which  seldom  drove  any  of  their  cattle  to 
market.  It  was  just  about  the  time  the 
drought  was  commencing  and  Henderson  was 
anxious  to  get  beyond  reach  of  it,  out  on  the 
plains  where  water  was  abundant  and  grass 
plenty.  If  he  could  once  reach  that  spot  he 
was  sure  that  he  could  make  something  nice 
out  of  his  cattle  ;  but  the  trouble  was  the 
drought  spread  all  over  that  part  of  Texas. 
He  was  mounted  on  an  old  dilapidated  horse, 
carried  his  revolver  strapped  around  his  waist, 
and  had  but  three  or  four  dollars  in  his 
pocket — not  enough  to  pay  anybody  for  the 
trouble  of  robbing  him.  But  after  he  had 
been  on  the  journey  for  two  weeks,  during 


228  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

which  time  he  met  one  or  two  parties  who 
would  just  as  soon  rob  him  as  not,  he  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  he  had  undertaken  his 
ride  for  nothing.  There  was  an  abundance 
of  cattle  for  sale,  but  the  difficulty  was  they 
would  not  bring  any  more  in  Austin  than  he 
was  willing  to  pay  on  the  spot,  and  one  day 
he  turned  around  with  the  intention  of  going 
back,  when  he  saw  a  horseman  on  a  distant 
swell  coming  toward  him.  As  he  evidently 
wanted  to  communicate  with  him,  Henderson 
rode  on  to  meet  him. 

"You  won't  get  any  more  than  your 
trouble  if  you  try  to  rob  me,"  said  Henderson. 
"I'll  wait  and  see  what  he  wants.  Perhaps 
he  knows  of  some  cattle  around  here  that  I 
can  buy." 

"  How-dy,  pilgrim,"  said  the  horseman 
when  he  came  up.  "Have  you  been  travel- 
ling fur  to-day?" 

"I  have  been  out  ever  since  daylight  this 
morning,"  said  Henderson.  "Why  do  you 
ask?" 

"'Cause  I  didn't  know  but  you  had  seen 
some  cattle  bearing  the  mark  of  bar  Y.  R.  as 


HE  DOES   NOT   SUCCEED.  229 

you  came  along.  Haven't  seen  any,  have 
you  ?  There  is  probably  a  hundred  head  got 
away  from  me  night  before  last,  and  I  can't 
find  hide  nor  hair  of  them.  They  have  gone 
off  in  search  of  grass  and  water.  We  haven't 
got  any  here  to  speak  of." 

"No,  I  haven't  seen  any,  and  I  may  as  well 
turn  around  and  go  back.  This  drought  ex- 
tends over  the  whole  of  the  country." 

"Bless  you,  yes!  We  got  word  the  other 
day  from  a  ranch  twenty  miles  the  other  side 
of  us  that  they  are  packing  up  and  getting 
ready  to  go  to  Trinity." 

"  Why,  the  farmers  won't  allow  that.  They 
will  shoot  the  last  beef  you  have." 

"  Well,  it  will  take  a  right  smart  deal  of 
ammunition  to  do  that,"  said  the  horseman, 
with  a  grin.  '"Cause  why?  there  will  be  about 
seventy-five  thousand  head,  mebbe  more,  that 
will  have  to  be  shot ;  and  when  the  farmers 
are  doing  that,  what  do  you  suppose  we1 11  be 
doing?" 

"  I  suppose  you  will  be  shooting  too.  Do 
you  own  these  cattle?" 

"No  ;  they  belong  to  a  man  named  Daven- 


230  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

port  who  lives  over  that  way  about  twenty 
miles." 

" Davenport!"  exclaimed  Henderson,  who 
was  taken  all  aback. 

"  Them's  the  words  I  spoke,  pilgrim,"  said 
the  horseman,  looking  at  Henderson  in  sur- 
prise. "  Maybe  you  know  the  man  ?  " 

"Is  he  Robert  Davenport?"  enquired  Hen- 
derson, scarcely  believing  that  he  had  heard 
aright. 

"I  believe  that  is  what  they  call  him  some- 
times." 

"  And  he's  got  a  little  boy  named  Bob  ? " 

"  Well,  he  aint  so  very  little  now.  He  was 
little  when  he  came  here,  but  he's  growed 
to  be  right  smart.  Maybe  you  know  the 
man?" 

"  Did  he  come  here  from  St.  Louis  ? " 

"Look  a-here,  pilgrim  ;  suppose  you  let  me 
ask  some  questions.  How  do  you  happen  to 
know  so  much  about  the  man?  He's  my  em- 
ployer, and  a  mighty  good  man  he  is." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon !  but  when  I  heard  you 
speak  his  name  I  concluded  that  I  knew  him. 
I  knew  a  man  of  that  name  once  who  was 


HE  DOES   NOT   SUCCEED.  231 

almost  dead  of  consumption.  But  of  course 
it  can't  be  the  same  one." 

"  Well,  now,  between  you  and  me,"  said  the 
cowboy,  considerably  mollified  by  this  ex- 
planation, "he  is  as  good  as  dead  already. 
Sometimes,  when  I  get  up  in  the  morning,  I 
look  around  to  see  if  he  is  all  right,  and  there 
he  is  sitting  on  the  porch.  He  gets  up  before 
I  do." 

"Bob  hasn't  got  his  tutor  with  him, 
has  he?" 

"  His  which  ?  "  asked  the  horseman. 

"His  private  teacher,"  explained  Hender- 
son. "He  used  to  have  one  sticking  to  his 
heels  wherever  he  went." 

"No;  he's  alone.  You  will  ride  on  and 
see  him  ?  It  is  only  a  matter  of  twenty 
miles." 

"No;  I  can't.  I  will  come  out  and  see 
him  at  some  future  time.  My  business  just 
now— 

"Now,  pilgrim,  you  asked  a  good  many 
questions  regarding  that  man.  I  want  to 
know  if  he  has  been  doing  something  up  in 
the  States." 


232  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

"Not  a  tiling!  Not  a  solitary  thing,  I 
assure  you." 

'"Cause  if  he  has,  I  won't  let  no  man  set 
there  on  his  horse  and  tell  me  that,"  con- 
tinued the  horseman,  growing  sullen  again. 
"  He's  as  fair  and  square  a  man  as  there  is." 

"  He  hasn't  been  doing  anything  wrong. 
You  may  mention  my  name  when  you  get 
home,  and  see  if  he  doesn't  back  up  my 
story." 

uWhat  did  you  say  your  name  was?" 

"Clifford  Henderson.  I  can  easy  tell  him 
that,  because  if  he  has  let  so  many  years  go 
without  arresting  me  he'll  not  begin  now," 
said  he  to  himself.  "  This  man  doesn't  know 
where  I  live  and  I  won't  tell  him." 

"  Well,  if  you  haven't  seen  them  cattle,  I'll 
go,"  said  the  horseman,  turning  his  nag  about. 
"I'd  feel  a  heap  safer  if  you  would  go  on  with 
me — but  I  tell  you,  you  would  have  to  explain 
why  you  asked  so  many  questions.  So  long  !  " 

I  may  interrupt  my  story  here  long  enough 
to  say  that  when  the  horseman  went  home  he 
reported  his  accidental  meeting  with  Hender- 
son, together  with  the  questions  he  asked,  at 


HE  DOES   NOT   SUCCEED.  233 

which  Mr.  Davenport  was  greatly  alarmed, 
although  he  tried  not  to  show  it.  That  very 
night  worked  a  change  in  Bob's  fortunes 
which  he  did  not  like.  Up  to  this  time  he 
had  been  permitted  to  go  as  he  pleased  among 
the  cattlemen,  who  all  liked  him  and  did  their 
best  to  teach  him,  but  now  he  was  obliged  to 
remain  indoors,  or  at  least  within  reach  of  his 
father's  voice.  His  father  couldn't  bear  to 
have  him  out  of  his  sight.  The  very  next  day 
the  will  was  drawn  up ;  and  although  Mr. 
Davenport  frequently  promised  himself  that 
the  first  time  he  went  to  Austin  he  would  go 
through  the  process  of  adopting  Bob,  so  as  to 
give  him  the  whole  of  his  money  in  case  any- 
thing happened  to  him,  he  never  got  beyond 
the  sound  of  his  own  dinner  horn.  It  was  a 
terrible  thing  for  the  invalid  to  reflect  that  he 
had  brought  Bob  up  to  believe  that  he  was  his 
own  son,  and  somehow  he  could  not  straighten 
it  out. 

Henderson  was  on  nettles  when  he  rode 
away  from  the  horseman.  He  knew  that  his 
brother  was  somewhere  in  Texas,  and  he 
hoped  he  was  on  a  cattle  ranch  far  out  of 


234  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

reach  of  him  ;  but  the  way  the  horseman 
pronounced  the  name  fairly  took  his  breath 
away. 

"  Of  all  the  men  that  I  ever  expected  to 
hear  of,  that  Davenport  is  the  beat!"  said 
Henderson,  throwing  his  reins  upon  his 
horse's  neck  and  shoving  his  hands  into  his 
pockets.  "  I  don't  believe  I  have  thought  of 
him  for  six  months,  or  if  I  did,  I  thought  of 
him  as  dead,  and  here  he  has  turned  up  when 
I  least  expected  it.  By  George !  all  my 
desire  to  possess  his  wealth  comes  back  to 
me  ;  but  how  I  am  to  get  it  I  don't  know. 
That  boy  has  plenty  of  rifles  to  back  him  up>. 
as  Scanlan  said  he  would." 

This  was  the  one  thing  of  which  I  spoke  that 
effectually  destroyed  all  Henderson's  idea  of 
making  a  better  man  of  himself.  It  was  easy 
enough  to  be  good  when  temptation  was  not 
thrown  in  his  way,  but  when  temptation  came, 
he  was  no  better  than  anybody  else.  He  rode 
along  for  two  hours,  thinking  over  Bob's 
habits,  and  wondering  if  it  would  be  possible 
for  him  to  steal  the  boy  away,  as  he  had  been 
on  the  point  of  doing  in  St.  Louis,  and  not 


HE   DOES   NOT   SUCCEED.  235 

until  the  sun  began  to  set  did  he  look  around 
for  a  camping-place. 

"I  wish  Scanlan  was  here  now,"  said  he. 
"I  am  sure  he  would  be  apt  to  think  of  some- 
thing. There's  three  men,"  he  added,  shading 
his  eyes  with  his  hand  and  gazing  toward 
a  belt  of  post-oaks  in  which  he  intended  to 
make  his  camp.  "  I  wonder  if  they  are  good- 
natured,  or  if  they  mean  to  go  through  my 
pockets  ?  Time  will  tell." 

When  he  first  discovered  the  three  men  in 
the  timber  two  of  them  were  lying  down,  and 
the  other  was  moving  about  as  if  making 
preparations  for  supper.  One  saw  his  ap- 
proach and  called  the  attention  of  the  others 
to  it,  and  then  all  got  up  and  looked  at  him. 
Evidently  the  men  were  not  inclined  to  trust 
strangers,  for  he  saw  that  one  of  them,  whom 
he  took  to  be  spokesman,  raised  up  without 
anything  in  his  hands,  while  the  others  stood 
with  their  rifles  in  the  hollow  of  their  arms. 
Henderson  thought  this  looked  a  little  sus- 
picious, but  kept  on  and  in  a  few  minutes 
was  close  enough  to  the  camp  to  accost  the 
men. 


236  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"  How  do  you  do,  strangers  ?  "  said  he. 

61  How-dy,  pilgrim,"  said  the  spokesman. 

"Have  you  got  room  in  your  camp  for 
another  person  ?" 

"Oh,  yes!  There's  plenty  of  room  round 
here." 

"I've  got  some  things  in  my  haversack  that 
may  assist  you  in  making  out  your  supper," 
said  Henderson. 

"Well,  alight  and  hitch,"  said  the  spokes- 
man. "There's  plenty  of  room  for  your 
horse  here  too." 

Henderson  dismounted  and  removed  the 
saddle  from  his  horse,  the  men  with  the  rifles 
regarding  him  suspiciously.  When  he  had 
thrown  his  saddle  down  by  the  fire,  he  coolly 
unhitched  his  revolver  and  flung  it  down  be- 
side it ;  whereupon  the  men  with  the  rifles 
drew  a  long  breath  of  relief,  and  deposited 
their  weapons  beside  the  trees  where  they  had 
taken  them  from.  Henderson  noticed  this, 
and  said,  as  he  made  his  lariat  fast  to  his 
horse's  neck  : 

"You  seem  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  some- 
thing. I  am  a  trader." 


HE  DOES   NOT   SUCCEED.  237 

"Oh,  you  are,  are  you?"  said  the  spokes- 
man. 

"Yes.  And  I  have  only  got  a  few  dollars 
in  my  pocket,  so  that  it  would  be  useless  for 
anybody  to  think  of  robbing  me.  I  came  out 
here  for  the  purpose  of  getting  some  cattle, 
but  I  found  that  the  drought  was  ahead  of  me. 
The  stock  isn't  worth  what  their  hides  and 
tallow  would  cost.  Now,"  he  added,  having 
driven  down  his  picket  pin  and  seated  himself 
near  the  fire,  "I'd  like  to  know  why  all  you 
Texans  pronounce  me  a  '  pilgrim '  as  soon  as 
you  see  me.  Is  there  anything  about  me  that 
reminds  you  of  the  States  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes.  The  way  you  sit  your  horse  is 
against  you.  A  Texan  does  not  sit  bent  over, 
with  his  hands  on  the  horn  of  his  saddle,  as  if 
he  feared  that  the  next  step  would  pitch  him 
overboard.  And  then  those  gloves.  A  Texan 
doesn't  wear  them." 

"  And  I  have  been  here  almost  eight  years," 
said  Henderson.  "I  guess  I  shall  have  to 
ride  a  little  more  in  order  to  get  accustomed 
to  the  customs  of  the  country.  What  did  you 
say  your  name  was  ?" 


238  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"I  didn't  say,"  returned  the  spokesman. 

"My  name  is  Henderson,"  replied  tlie  guest, 
who  wished  most  heartily  that  he  had  gone 
somewhere  else.  He  didn't  like  the  way  the 
spokesman  answered  his  last  question. 

"My  name  is Which  one  do  you 

want?" 

"  Why,  the  one  you  go  by,  of  course." 

"  Well,  the  name  that  I  go  by  just  now  is 
Coyote  Bill,"  said  the  man,  pushing  his 
spurred  heels  a  little  closer  to  the  fire.  "  You 
have  heard  of  me,  I  reckon  ? " 

Henderson  was  startled  to  hear  this  name. 
He  had  heard  of  him  a  good  many  times  while 
in  Austin,  and  had  never  expected  to  meet 
him  in  this  unceremonious  manner.  He  knew 
that  he  was  in  the  power  of  a  desperado  of  the 
worst  sort. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HENDEESOW  MEETS   COYOTE  BILL. 


S,  that  is  the  name  I  go  by  now," 
JL  said  Coyote  Bill,  grinning  when  he 
saw  Henderson's  expression  of  astonishment. 
"What  my  other  name  is  no  one  in  this 
country  knows.  Whenever  you  hear  that 
name  spoken  you  will  know  what  I  look  like. 
I  came  to  this  country  the  same  as  you  did." 

"The  same  as  I  did?"  echoed  Henderson, 
his  surprise  increasing.  "  What  do  you  mean 
by  that?" 

"Why,  you  got  into  some  trouble  up  there 
with  the  police  and  had  to  skip,  that's  what 
I  mean.  A  man  of  your  education  does  not 
come  down  to  this  country  of  his  own  free 
will." 

"Well,  that's  a  fact,"  said  Henderson, 
breathing  easy  again.  A  desperate  scheme 
had  occurred  to  him,  suggested  by  the  out- 
law's last  words.  He  was  wishing  for  Scanlan 


240  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

all  the  time,  thinking  that  he  would  be  likely 
to  propose  something  by  which  he  could 
possess  himself  of  his  brother's  wealth,  and 
right  here  was  the  man  who,  by  a  little 
management,  could  be  induced  to  act  Scan- 
Ian1  s  part.  He  would  try  him  at  any  rate, 
but  he  wanted  first  to  see  how  much  Coyote 
Bill  knew  about  him. 

"Are  these  all  the  men  you  have  in  your 
band?"  asked  Henderson,  at  length. 

"No,"  laughed  Bill,  as  if  the  very  idea 
amused  him.  "I've  got  one  or  two  more  scat- 
tered around  on  the  plains  somewhere." 

"That  means  that  you  have  thirty  or  forty 
more,"  said  Henderson. 

"Well,  I've  got  some  in  Austin,  and  that's 
where  they  have  seen  you.  Although  I  had 
never  seen  you  before,  I  knew  you  the 
moment  you  hove  in  sight." 

Again  Henderson  breathed  easy.  He  knew 
he  hadn't  said  anything  about  his  kidnapping 
scheme  in  Austin,  or  anywhere  else,  that 
Coyote  Bill  could  have  got  hold  of  it,  and 
consequently  Bill  was  just  guessing  at  his 
reason  for  being  in  Texas. 


HENDERSON   MEETS    COYOTE   BILL.          241 

"Who  are  those  men?  What  did  I  say  in 
their  presence  that  led  them  to  guess  why  I 
had  come  down  here?" 

"Oh,  you  said  enough  !  I  aint  going  to  tell 
you  just  what  you  said,  for  fear  that  you 
would  know  those  men  when  you  get  back. 
Is  the  man  around  here  that  you  have  got 
anything  against  ? " 

u  I  will  speak  to  you  after  a  while,"  said 
Henderson,  turning  his  gaze  toward  the  rest 
of  the  men  at  the  fire. 

"  Oh,  you  may  speak  freely  here  !  I  never 
go  into  anything  without  their  consent.  It's 
share  and  share  alike  here.  But  if  you  would 
rather  speak  to  me  alone,  why  it  is  all  right. 
Have  you  got  supper  ready  ? " 

The  man  appealed  to  nodded,  and  pointed 
to  a  pile  of  bacon  and  corn  bread  that  was 
waiting  for  them.  It  was  such  a  supper  as 
Henderson,  in  his  St.  Louis  home,  would  have 
turned  up  his  nose  at,  but  he  was  ready  for  it 
now.  During  the  meal  but  little  was  said, 
and  Henderson,  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye, 
took  a  good  survey  of  the  man  that  everybody 
called  Coyote  Bill.  He  didn't  look  like  such 

16 


242  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

a  desperate  fellow,  by  any  means,  and  all 
the  men  who  had  had  experience  with  him 
described  him  as  a  very  different  person. 
This  proved  that  Bill  did  not  always  lead  his 
bands,  but  gave  the  movement  into  somebody 
else's  hands,  and  appeared  only  when  out  of 
reach  of  the  settlers.  He  was  as  neat  as  a  new 
pin,  and  showed  by  every  move  he  made  that 
he  had  been  well  brought  up.  After  supper 
he  lighted  his  pipe  and  motioned  to  Hender- 
son to  follow  him  out  on  the  plains.  When 
out  of  reach  of  everybody  he  threw  himself 
down  on  the  grass  and  invited  Henderson  to 
do  the  same. 

"Now,  then,"  said  he,  "I  am  ready  to  hear 
all  your  plans." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  have  got  any,"  said 
Henderson. 

"Yes,  you  have,"  said  Coyote  Bill,  in  a 
tone  that  showed  he  was  not  in  a  mood  to 
argue  the  matter.  "A  man  needn't  come 
around  here  with  such  a  face  as  you  have 
got  on  you  and  tell  me  anything  like  that. 
What  was  the  reason  you  did  not  go  on 
and  see  Davenport  ?  I  saw  you  talking  with 


HENDERSON   MEETS   COYOTE  BILL.          243 

a  cowboy  of  his  not  more  than  three  hours 
ago." 

"Where  were  you?"  asked  Henderson, 
more  astonished  than  ever. 

"  We  were  just  behind  a  neighboring  swell, 
not  more  than  half  a  mile  away.  Your  names 
are  not  alike,  but  still  you  must  be  some  kin 
to  Davenport.  What  relationship  are  you?" 

"I  am  his  half  brother." 

"That  makes  you  next  of  kin,  don't  it? 
Well,  now,  if  that  man  dies,  who  is  going  to 
inherit  his  property?" 

"  I  am,  if  it  were  not  for  that  little  nuisance 
he  has  picked  up  somewhere.  You  see  it  was 
just  this  way." 

With  this  introduction  Henderson  went  on 
and  gave  Coyote  Bill  a  full  history  of  the  boy 
Mr.  Davenport  had  adopted  in  the  mines ;  or 
rather,  he  intended  to  adopt  him,  but  he 
didn't  do  it.  He  had  brought  him  up  from 
a  little  boy  to  think  his  property  was  all  his 
own,  giving  no  heed  to  the  half  brother  who 
might  want  some  of  it. 

"And  when  I  asked  him  for  a  little 
money — live  hundred  dollars  were  all  I 


^44  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

wanted — lie  got  up  on  his  ear  and  said  I 
couldn't  have  it.  That  made  me  mad,  I  tell 
you,  and  I  left  his  house  for  good." 

"And  never  went  into  it  again  ?"  enquired 
Coyote  Bill. 

"  Yes,  I  went  into  it  once  more,"  said  Hen- 
derson, thinking  he  might  as  well  tell  the 
truth,  now  that  he  was  about  it.  "I  went  in 
and  made  an  effort  to  steal  the  boy.  I  didn't 
get  caught  at  it,  but  my  partner  did,  and  I 
reckon  he's  serving  the  penalty  before  this 
time." 

"What  were  you  going  to  do  with  him?" 
asked  Coyote  Bill,  and  it  was  plain  that  he 
had  a  big  respect  for  Henderson. 

"  I  was  going  to  put  him  in  a  lunatic  asy- 
lum. I  was  going  to  keep  him  there  until  he 
became  of  age,  and  then  get  him  to  sign  his 
money  over  to  me.  I  tell  you  he  would  have 
done  it  before  he  had  been  there  two  weeks." 

"And  he  just  as  sane  as  you  are?"  said 
Bill.  "Didn't  you  know  that  the  authorities 

would  have  turned By  the  way,  how 

much  is  the  old  man  worth?" 

"He's  worth  a  million  of  dollars.     I  know 


HENDERSON   MEETS   COYOTE  BILL.          245 

that  he  would  have  turned  the  place  upside 
down  in  the  effort  to  find  Bob,  but  I  tell 
you  I  would  have  been  willing  to  risk  it." 

"  A  million  dollars  !  And  you  want  to  get 
hold  of  some  of  that  money?" 

"  I  tell  you  I  want  to  get  hold  of  all  of  it," 
said  Henderson.  "  It  is  mine,  and  I  don't  see 
why  he  should  want  that  little  nuisance  to 
cheat  me  out  of  it.  The  thing  would  be  safe 
enough  if  I  could  get  somebody  to  trust.  I 
want  him  to  go  to  the  old  man's  ranch  and 
find  out  where  he  keeps  his  bonds  hidden. 
It  would  be  no  trouble  at  all  for  him  to  steal 
them." 

This  was  all  Henderson  found  it  necessary 
for  him  to  say  on  that  subject ;  Coyote  Bill 
"caught  on"  immediately.  He  understood 
that  Henderson  wanted  him  to  go  to  the 
ranch  and  steal  those  bonds.  He  arose  to  a 
sitting  posture  and  smoked  audibly  while  he 
meditated. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  that  could  be  easily 
done,"  said  he. 

"  Why,  I  know  it  could  !  If  I  was  as  I 
used  to  be  in  my  brother's  house,  I  would 


246  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

gain  the  whole  thing  in  a  week.  But  the 
trouble  is  I  threatened  him  when  I  left.  I 
told  him  that  if  Bob  ever  lived  to  become  his 
heir,  I  would  follow  him  up  and  make  him 
know  what  it  was  to  be  in  want  as  I  was  at 
that  moment." 

"Well,  I'll  try  it,"  said  Bill. 

u You  will?"  asked  Henderson,  so  over- 
joyed that  he  could  scarcely  speak  plainly. 
"I  didn't  suppose  that  you  would  go  there 
yourself,  but  thought  that  maybe  you  could 
find  some  man  to  send  in  your  place." 

UI  would  rather  go  myself,  because  I  will 
know  that  everything  has  been  done.  You 
see,  there  isn't  one  man  in  ten  who  knows 
me.  I  could  go  there  and  pass  myself  off  for 
a  miner." 

"That's  the  idea!  The  old  man  has  been 
there,  and  you  could  tell  him  what  you 
pleased.  Have  you  ever  been  in  the  mines?" 

"No.  I  am  as  close  to  them  as  I  care  to 
get.  If  I  find  that  strategy  Avon't  work,  I 
suppose  I  could  put  the  Indians  on  them." 

"  Indians  ?  "  said  Henderson. 

4 '  Certainly.     I  was  on  my  way  to  the  reser- 


HENDERSON   MEETS   COYOTE   BILL.          247 

vation  when  I  saw  you  talking  to  the  old 
man's  cowboy.  You  see,  I  don't  find  much 
work  to  do,  and  I  am  going  there  to  rest  up 
a  bit.  This  drought  will  soon  be  over,  and 
then  I  shall  have  more  than  I  can  do." 

"What  do  you  call  your  business,  any- 
way?" 

"  Oh,  stealing  cattle.  I  take  them  to  a 
little  fertile  spot  in  the  Staked  Plains,  kill 
them  for  their  hides  and  tallow,  and  give  the 
meat  to  the  Indians.  I  am  chief  of  about  a 
hundred  men,  and  they  will  go  their  lengths 
for  me." 

"Well,  well!    I  didn't  know  that." 

"  You  see  that  I  can  easily  get  the  money, 
or  whatever  it  is  that  he  is  keeping  from  you. 
Now,  I  want  to  know  how  much  I  am  to  get 
for  this.  Say  a  half  a  million." 

"  I  will  give  you  half  of  whatever  I  make. 
Can  anything  be  fairer  than  that?  It  may  be 
more  and  it  may  be  less  than  half  a  million." 

"Yes,  that's  fair.  Now  let's  go  back  to 
the  fire  and  see  what  the  men  think  of  this. 
You  had  better  go  to  bed,  and  we'll  see  how 
it  looks  in  the  morning." 


248  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

Henderson  could  scarcely  sleep  at  all  that 
night,  and  when  he  did  he  awoke  to  find  that 
Coyote  Bill  and  his  men  were  still  discussing 
the  subject.  The  method  of  stealing  the 
bonds  instead  of  stealing  the  boy  promised 
much  better  than  his  original  scheme,  for  he 
would  have  no  hand  in  it.  Coyote  Bill  would 
be  alone  in  the  matter,  and  if  he  should  be 
detected  and  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to 
tell  who  his  accomplice  was—  Ah  !  That 
was  something  he  hadn't  spoken  to  Bill  about. 
In  the  morning  he  would  broach  that  subject, 
and  tell  Bill  never  to  mention  his  name.  If 
he  did,  all  his  hope  of  success  would  be  gone. 
He  finally  fell  asleep  and  awoke  to  find  break- 
fast waiting  for  him.  Bill  greeted  him  with 
a  good-morning,  and  immediately  referred  to 
their  last  night's  conversation. 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  try  it,"  said  he.  "I 
have  never  stolen  any  of  Davenport's  cattle, 
and  I  don't  suppose  there  is  anyone  on  his 
place  who  knows  me." 

"  If  you  are  caught,  don't  mention  my 
name,"  said  Henderson.  "  He  knows  me,  and 
he  don't  expect  any  good  of  me,  either." 


HENDERSON   MEETS   COYOTE  BILL.          249 

"If  you  knew  me,  pilgrim,  you  wouldn't 
mention  that  at  all,"  said  Bill;  and  anybody 
could  see  that  he  was  growing  mad  about  it. 
"I  shall  not  call  the  name  of  Henderson  once 
while  I  am  there.  If  anybody  says  anything 
to  me  about  you  I  shall  say  I  don't  know 
you." 

After  breakfast  Bill  shook  Henderson  by 
the  hand  and  started  and  walked  away.  He 
took  nothing  with  him  except  his  brace  of 
revolvers  and  an  old  dilapidated  blanket, 
which  he  slung  over  his  shoulder.  He  left  his 
rifle  and  horse  in  charge  of  his  men,  who  were 
to  bring  them  to  him  at  some  future  time, 
Henderson  didn't  know  when  or  where  it  was. 
Bill  didn't  exchange  any  plans  with  Hender- 
son, for  he  had  made  up  his  mind  what  he 
wanted  to  do  and  he  didn't  care  to  have  any- 
one know  it.  Henderson  gazed  at  him  in  sur- 
prise as  he  walked  away. 

"There's  a  man  who  is  going  into  trouble," 
said  he.  UI  could  have  given  him  some 
things  that  I  think  would  have  helped  him 
out." 

"Don't  you  lose  no  sleep  worryin'  about 


250  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

him,"  said  one  of  the  men.  "  He  knows  what 
he  is  going  to  do.  Now  you  can  find  your 
way  back,  can't  you?  We  have  got  to  leave 
you  here." 

Yes,  Henderson  could  get  along  now  all 
right,  and  he  gladly  parted  with  the  men, 
after  dividing  his  corn  meal  and  bacon  with 
them,  for  he  was  anxious  to  get  away  by  him- 
self and  think  the  matter  over.  He  hadn't 
known  what  happiness  was  before  in  a  long 
while. 

"  If  one  of  the  men  from  whom  I  have  just 
parted,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  was  out  of 
hearing,  "had  told  me  that  he  was  the  chief 
of  a  hundred  men  who  would  go  their  lengths 
for  him,  I  should  have  believed  him ;  but 
that  is  a  queer  thing  for  that  neat-looking 
follow  to  say.  How  easily  that  villain  fell  in 
with  my  plans !  If  I  had  been  going  there 

knowing  what  he  does Whew  !  I  believe 

I  should  have  got  some  advice  from  some- 
body." 

Meanwhile  Coyote  Bill  walked  along  toward 
Mr.  Davenport's  ranch,  keeping  a  lookout  for 
horsemen  who  were  on  the  watch  for  stray 


HENDERSON   MEETS   COYOTE   BILL.          251 

cattle,  whom  he  intended  to  dodge,  and  re- 
volving in  his  mind  certain  plans  for  stealing 
the  bonds ;  for  be  it  known  that  he  put 
implicit  faith  in  Henderson's  word.  No  man 
could  come  to  him  and  talk  as  earnestly  as  he 
did  when  there  was  nothing  behind  it.  He 
tramped  all  that  day,  found  a  camp  at  night 
in  a  belt  of  timber  with  which  the  country 
was  thickly  interspersed,  laid  down  without  a 
fire,  and  at  ten  o'clock  reached  his  destina- 
tion. He  was  really  foot-sore  and  weary 
when  he  got  there,  for  walking  so  far  was 
something  to  which  he  was  not  accustomed, 
and  was  glad  to  see  the  man  for  whom  he  was 
looking  sitting  on  the  porch. 

"Good-day  to  you,  sir!"  said  Coyote 
Bill,  lifting  his  hat.  "  Is  this  Mr.  Faber's 
ranch?" 

"Come  up  and  sit  down,"  replied  Mr. 
Davenport.  "  You  have  travelled  far  and  you 
look  completely  exhausted.  Faber  !  I  don't 
know  such  a  man  as  that.  He  can't  have  a 
ranch  anywhere  about  here." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Bill.  "I  believe  I 
am  tired,  and  if  it  will  suit  you  will  sit  down 


252  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

for    a  while.    May  I  make  bold   to  ask    for 
something  to  eat?" 

"  Eat  ?  Yes,  you  can  have  all  yon  want. 
Bob,  hunt  up  the  cook  and  get  something. 
Have  you  travelled  far,  sir?  " 

"  About  a  hundred  miles,  afoot  and  alone." 

"I  guess  that  a  drink  of  water  would  help 
you.  We  haven't  got  much,  but  what  we've 
got  you  are  welcome  to.  Bob,"  he  added,  as 
the  boy  came  back  after  seeing  the  cook, 
"  scare  up  a  drink  of  water  for  this  gentle- 
man. I  speak  of  you,  sir,  as  your  clothes 
warrant  me  to  speak.  You  are  not  a  Texan. 
You  haven't  been  long  enough  in  this  country 
to  become  accustomed  to  their  way  of  talking. 
You  are  from  the  States." 

"Yes,  sir;  from  Wisconsin,"  said  Bill, 
rightly  concluding  that  Mr.  Davenport  would 
not  be  acquainted  with  anybody  in  that  far 
off  State.  "I  was  engaged  in  doing  a  good 
business  in  Milwaukee,  but  I  fell  in  with  some 
fellows  who  were  going  to  the  mines,  and 
there  I  lost  what  little  money  I  had." 

"  Did  you  go  to  California  ? " 

"  No  ;  to  Denver." 


HENDERSON  MEETS   COYOTE  BILL.          253 

4  'Then  how  did  you  happen  to  get  way  off 
here  ?  This  is  not  the  road  to  the  States." 

"I  know  it  ;  but  I  wanted  to  find  my  part- 
ner, who  is  in  this  country  engaged  in  the 
cattle  business." 

"Well,  Mr.  Faber,  if  that's  his  name, 
hasn't  got  a  ranch  anywhere  around  here. 
The  men  who  live  beyond  me  are  Mr.  Chis- 


Here  Mr.  Davenport  went  off  into  a  par- 
oxysm of  coughing,  to  which  Bill  listened 
with  great  concern  pictured  on  his  face. 

*"I  am  afraid  you  are  talking  too  much," 
said  he.  "  Doesn't  this  climate  agree  with 
your  health?" 

"Oh,  yes!  I  should  probably  have  been  in 
my  grave  long  ago  if  I  had  not  come  down 
here.  Now,  sir,  your  meal  is  ready.  Will 
you  step  in  and  sit  down  to  it?" 

Bill  thanked  him,  and  went  in  to  a  much 
finer  spread  than  he  had  been  accustomed  to 
while  roaming  with  his  men.  He  ate  until  he 
was  ashamed  of  himself,  and  came  out  on  the 
porch  with  the  air  of  one  who  had  enjoyed  a 
good  meal.  There  was  one  thing  about  it  he 


254  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

told  himself  :  No  matter  what  misfortunes  his 
cattle  might  meet  with,  Mr.  Davenport  in- 
tended that  those  who  were  dependent  upon 
him  should  fare  the  best. 

"I  have  a  little  money  left,"  said  he,  "and 
I  want  to  know 

"Keep  your  money  in  your  pocket,"  re- 
turned Mr.  Davenport.  "  When  I  have 
twenty-five  thousand  head  of  cattle  to  sell  for 
a  dollar  apiece  I  can  easily  afford  to  give  you 
something  to  eat.  Sit  down.  You  say  you 
were  in  the  mines  at  Denver.  What  sort  of 

* 

work  are  they  having  there?" 

This  was  the  very  point  that  Coyote  Bill 
had  been  dreading,  but  he  had  gone  over  it  so 
many  times  since  leaving  Henderson  in  camp, 
that  he  had  it  at  his  tongue's  end.  He  knew 
i\o  more  about  mining  than  he  had  been  able 
to  glean  from  the  conversation  of  his  men, 
some  of  whom  were  fresh  from  Mexico,  and 
perhaps  he  got  the  two  pretty  well  mixed  up. 
For  example,  he  told  of  one  mine  he  had 
been  in  where  they  had  been  obliged  to  go 
down  twelve  hundred  feet  before  they  could 
get  gold  in  paying  quantities.  Then  Mr. 


HENDERSON   MEETS   COYOTE   BILL.          255 

Davenport  began  to  look  at  him  suspiciously. 
There  might  be  some  men  at  some  future  time 
that  would  be  able  to  go  down  that  distance, 
but  there  were  none  there  now. 

"  I  believe  you  are  up  to  something,"  said 
he  to  himself.  "But  what  in  the  world  it  is 
I  don't  know.  I  believe  I  will  keep  you  here 
for  a  while  and  find  out."  Then  aloud  he 
said:  "Where  are  you  going  now?  If  your 
friend  isn't  around  here,  where  do  you  think 
you  will  find  him?" 

"  I  guess  I  had  better  go  back  to  Austin 
and  work  around  there  at  something  until 
I  can  earn  money  enough  to  take  me  home," 
said  Bill,  hoping  that  Mr.  Davenport  would 
suggest  something  else  to  him.  "Any  little 
thing  that  I  can  do  will  help  me  along." 

"How  would  you  like  to  stay  here  and 
work  on  this  ranch?" 

"That  would  be  all  very  well,  but  I  can't 
ride.  I  should  have  to  do  something  about 
the  house  or  I  shouldn't  earn  my  money." 

"  You  look  like  a  man  who  could  sit  a 
horse. ' ' 

"I  know  it  ;   but  they  buck  and  jump  so 


256  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

that  they  throw  me  right  off.  When  I  was  in 
the  mines  I  devoted  myself  entirely  to  work." 

"Well,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I 
can  find  some  work  for  you  around  the  ranch 
that  you  can  turn  your  hand  to." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"It  won't  be  much — like  making  the  beds, 
for  instance.  Besides,  you  look  completely 
exhausted.  You  can  stay  here  until  you 
somewhat  recover  yourself  and  make  some 
enquiries  among  the  cowboys,  and  perhaps 
you  will  learn  something  about  your  partner. 
I  am  determined  to  know  what  you  are  at," 
added  Mr.  Davenport  to  himself.  "Can  it 
be  that  you  are  any  ways  implicated  with 
Clifford  Henderson?  Well,  I  have  got  my 
will  made  out,  and  I  will  see  what  you  will  do 
to  it." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  Coyote  Bill  became 
an  inmate  of  Mr.  Davenport's  house.  When 
the  cowboys  came  in  at  supper  time  he  was  as 
respectful  to  them  as  he  was  to  Mr.  Daven- 
port, addressed  them  all  as  ".sir,"  when  he 
was  speaking  to  them,  and  by  giving  them 
a  sharp  look  when  they  came  in  made  up  his 


HENDERSON   MEETS   COYOTE   BILL.          257 

mind  that  there  was  no  one  among  them  who 
recognized  him.  He  looked  them  squarely  in 
the  eye  when  he  talked  to  them,  and  listened 
while  they  told  him  of  the  men  who  lived 
beyond  them.  There  was  no  Mr.  Faber  in  the 
lot.  He  must  be  inside  of  them  somewhere. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that  fellow,  Lem  \ " 
asked  Frank,  as  the  two  met  under  the  trees 
to  smoke  their  evening  pipe.  They  had  left 
Bill  in  the  house  and  he  was  busy  at  work 
with  the  dishes. 

"  He  is  here  for  no  good,  that's  what  I  think 
of  him,"  said  Lem,  seating  himself  under  the 
nearest  tree.  "  He  has  been  out  to  Denver, 
and  came  out  here  to  find  somebody  he  never 
heard  of.  He  never  had  a  pardner  named 
Faber,  and  what  do  you  think  of  his  going 
into  a  mine  that  extended  twelve  hundred  feet 
under  the  ground  ?  I  tell  you  he  has  never 
been  near  Denver." 

"And  he  can't  ride!"  added  Frank.  "I 
see  the  marks  on  his  boots  where  he  has  had 
spurs  on.  I  tell  you  he  wants  to  be  mighty 
careful  how  he  acts  around  here." 

"Do  you  mind  them  six-shooters  he's  got  ?" 

17 


258  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

UI  do,  and  I  aint  afraid  of  them,  mither. 
I  guess  I  can  get  a  pistol  out  as  quick  as  he 
can.  Just  keep  your  eye  on  him  and  we'll 
see  what  he  is  going  to  do." 

The  days  grew  into  weeks  and  the  weeks 
into  months,  and  still  Coyote  Bill  stayed 
around  the  house.  In  fact  he  didn't  say 
a  word  about  going  since  he  was  settled  there. 
He  seemed  to  think  that  the  man  he  was  in 
search  of  was  somebody  he  couldn't  reach, 
and  he  was  content  to  remain  where  he  Avas. 
Mr.  Davenport  kept  his  eye  out  at  all  times, 
and  the  only  thing  he  found  against  Bill  was 
when  he  caught  him  trying  to  pick  his  desk. 
He  came  suddenly  into  the  room  Avhere  Bill 
was  at  work,  and  the  £>osition  he  caught  him 
in  was  enough  to  condemn  him.  But  Bill  was 
equal  to  it.  He  greeted  him  with  a  good- 
morning,  and  proceeded  to  tumble  up  his  bed 
as  though  nothing  Avas  the  matter. 

"Why  do  you  have  this  door  shut?" 
enquired  Mr.  Davenport,  with  more  sternness 
than  he  had  ever  thrown  into  his  words.  "I 
generally  leave  it  open." 

"  I  found  it  shut  Avhen  I  came  in,  sir,"  said 


HENDERSON   MEETS   COYOTE   BILL.          259 

Bill.  ' '  I  always  make  it  a  point  to  leave 
things  as  I  find  them.  It's  a  fine  day  out- 
side, sir." 

"  Yes,  of  course  it  is  a  fine  day  here  in  this 
country,"  said  Mr.  Davenport,  who  was  wish- 
ing every  day  that  it  would  rain.  ' '  We  never 
see  any  clouds  here." 

Things  went  on  in  this  way  until  we  came 
there,  and  for  once  Mr.  Davenport  forgot  him- 
self and  took  us  into  his  confidence.  I  had 
noticed  'Rastus  Johnson,  and  I  didn't  think 
there  was  anything  strange  about  it,  except 
that  he  seemed  to  sympathize  with  me, 
because  I  had  lost  my  cattle.  But,  then,  that 
was  something  that  fell  to  everybody  down 
there,  and  besides  I  had  more  than  made  my 
loss  good.  Finally,  the  time  came  when  I 
bearded  the  lion  in  his  den,  and,  prompted  by 
Elam,  called  him  by  his  right  name.  Of 
course  he  was  thunderstruck,  but  I  think  I 
did  the  best  thing  I  could  under  the  circum- 
stances. He  made  up  his  mind  to  steal  the 
pocket-book  at  once,  and  boldly  proposed  the 
thing  to  me  as  if  I  had  agreed  to  "become 
one  of  them."  I  got  out  of  it  somehow,  and 


260  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

that  was  the  night  that  he  and  El  am  got  into 
that  "scrap."  He  went  off,  as  I  expected  he 
would,  and  I  did  not  see  him  again  until  he 
and  Clifford  Henderson  came  to  the  ranch  to 
hunt  up  the  missing  pocket-book.  You  saw 
how  he  treated  me  while  he  was  there.  Tom 
Mason's  luck  came  in  ;  he  found  the  pocket- 
book,  and  I  hadn't  seen  Bill  since.  And  now 
Henderson  was  gone,  and  I  concluded  that 
with  all  those  men  watching  us  we  couldn't 
reach  Austin  without  a  fight.  But  we  had 
ten  good  men,  and  they  were  all  good  shots. 
And  I  saw  that  others  felt  the  same  way. 
Well,  let  it  come.  I  was  sure  of  one  of  them, 
anyway. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PROVING  THE  WILL. 

WHEN  Clifford  Henderson  turned  his 
nag  and  galloped  away  from  us,  lie 
was  about  the  maddest  man  I  ever  saw 
mounted  on  horseback.  When  I  said  away 
from  "us,"  I  mean  from  the  three  or  four 
men  whom  he  had  been  trying  to  induce  to 
buy  his  cattle,  and  Tom  Mason  and  myself. 
He  had  good  reason  to  be  angry.  He  had 
come  out  to  the  ranch  while  we  were  there ; 
and  although  he  had  things  all  his  own  way, 
and  one  of  the  men  who  were  with  him  had 
searched  us  to  prove  that  we  didn't  have  the 
pocket-book,  he  had  hardly  got  out  of  reach 
of  the  house  when  Tom  had  it  in  his  posses- 
sion. That  was  as  neat  a  piece  of  strategy 
as  I  ever  heard  of,  this  finding  the  pocket- 
book  after  he  had  got  through  looking  for  it, 
and  I  didn't  wonder  that  he  felt  sore  over  it. 
He  meditated  about  it  as  he  rode  along,  and 

261 


262  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

the  more  he  thought  about  it,  the  more  nearly 
overcome  with  rage  was  he. 

"To  think  that  that  little  snipe  should  have 
gone  and  found  the  pocket-book  after  I  had 
got  done  looking  for  it — that's  what  bangs 
me!"  he  exclaimed,  shaking  his  fists  in  the 
air.  ''No  wonder  they  call  him  Lucky  Tom. 
But  there  is  just  this  much  about  it :  the 
pocket-book  is  not  going  to  do  him  any  good. 
I'll  go  and  see  Bill  about  it,  and  then  I'll  go 
to  Austin,  find  the  surrogate  before  he  does, 
and  challenge  the  will.  By  that  means  I  shall 
put  him  to  some  trouble  before  he  can  handle 
the  stock  as  he  has  a  mind  to." 

Henderson  evidently  knew  where  he  was 
going,  for  he  went  at  a  tremendous  rate  until 
nearly  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  stopping 
only  twice  at  some  little  streams  that  he 
crossed  to  allow  his  horse  time  to  get  a  drink, 
and  then  he  rode  into  a  belt  of  timber  where 
he  found  Coyote  Bill  waiting  for  him.  He 
had  two  men  there  with  him  as  a  body-guard. 
Henderson  got  off  his  horse,  removed  his 
saddle,  and  turned  the  animal  loose  before  he 
said  a  word.  Bill  was  watching  him  all  the 


PROVING   THE   WILL.  263 

time,  and  concluded  that  he  had  some  bad 
news. 

"Well,"  said  he  impatiently,  "as  soon  as 
you  get  ready  to  speak  let  us  hear  from  you." 

"I  can  easily  think  of  myself  as  being 
fooled  in  this  way,  but  for  a  man  like  you, 
who  makes  his  living  by  cheating  other  folks, 
I  don't  see  any  excuse  at  all  for  it !  "  said  Hen- 
derson, as  he  threw  himself  on  the  ground 
beside  Bill.  "We  have  lost  the  pocket- 
book!" 

"Did  those  boys  find  it?"  asked  the  man, 
starting  up  in  amazement. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  they  have  found  it !  I  have  seen 
the  will." 

"Why,  how  in  the  name  of  common  sense 
did  they  find  it?"  said  Bill,  who  could  not 
believe  that  his  ears  were  not  deceiving  him. 
"And  you  have  seen  the  will?" 

* '  Yes,  I  have.  Everything  goes  to  that 
boy,  dog-gone  the  luck!" 

"Tell  us  all  about  it.  I  don't  understand 
it." 

"You  know  we  saw  them  when  we  got  to 
the  ranch,  and  they  found  the  pocket-book. 


264  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

That's  all  I  know  about  it.  When  they 
returned  they  found  me  trying  to  sell  the 
cattle  to  some  of  the  outfit,  and  they  produced 
the  will.  I  saw  it  and  read  a  portion  of  it." 

"  Well,  you  are  a  pilgrim,  and  that's  a  fact. 
Why  didn't  you  destroy  the  will?  I'll  bet 
you  that  if  they  showed  me  the  will  they 
would  never  see  it  again." 

"Suppose  there  was  a  revolver  pointed 
straight  at  your  head.  What  would  you  do 
then?" 

"You  were  a  dunce  for  letting  them  get 
that  way." 

"Suppose  there  were  three  men,  and  while 
one  of  them  had  your  head  covered  with  a 
pistol,  another  should  ride  up  and  lay  hold  of 
your  bridle?  I  don't  reckon  you  would  help 
yourself  much." 

"  Did  they  have  you  that  way  ?  Then  I  beg 
your  pardon,"  said  Bill,  extending  his  hand. 
"  They  didn't  give  you  much  show,  did  they  ? 
But  you  threatened  them,  didn't  you?" 

"  No  ;  I  simply  told  them  that  I  was  next  of 
kin  and  wanted  to  soe  the  will.  I  could  tell 
whether  it  was  a  fraud  or  not.  I  recognized 


PROVING   THE   WILL.  265 

my  brother's  handwriting  at  once,  but  I  told 
them  it  was  a  lie  out  of  the  whole  cloth." 
"  And  does  the  will  make  the  boy  his  heir  ?  " 
"It  does.     Now  I  want  to  go  to  Austin  and 
get   there  before  Chisholm   does.     I  can  put 
him   to  some  trouble  before  he  handles  that 
stock." 

"  Is  Chisholm  going  there  ?  " 
"  He  must,  to  get  the  will  probated. " 
"Then  you  just  take  my  advice  and  keep 
away  from  Austin.  Chisholm  would  shoot 
you  down  as  soon  as  he  would  look  at  you. 
You  don't  know  Chisholm.  He's  a  mighty 
plain-spoken  man  when  he's  let  alone,  but  you 
get  his  dander  up  and  he's  just  lightning.  He 
has  got  an  idea  that  you  are  trying  to  cheat 
Bob  out  of  his  money  and  that  you  are 
a.  rascal.  JN"o,  sir ;  you  keep  away  from 
Chisholm." 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  ?  Am  I  going  to  sit 
still  and  allow  myself  to  be  cheated  ?  That's 
the  way  folks  do  things  in  %St.  Louis." 

"Yes;  but  it  isn't  the  way  they  do  here. 
You  needn't  allow  yourself  to  be  cheated  out 
of  that  money." 


266  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?  " 

"  Put  the  Indians  on  him." 

"The  Indians  ? "  exclaimed  Henderson. 

''Certainly,"  said  Bill  coolly.  "What  do  you 
suppose  I  have  got  the  Indians  for  if  it  isn't 
to  help  me  out  in  a  job  of  this  kind  ?  You 
said  you  wanted  him  shut  up  until  he  signed 
his  property  over  to  you,  and  I  don't  think 
you  will  find  a  better  place." 

"  Why,  my  goodness,  they  will  kill  him  !  " 
said  Henderson,  horrified  at  the  idea  of  mak- 
ing Bob  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  those 
wild  men. 

"I'll  risk  it.  Just  put  him  among  the 
Indians  with  the  understanding  that  he  is 
to  remain  there  until  he  signs  his  property 
over  to  you,  and  he'll  soon  sign,  I  bet  you." 

Henderson  was  silent  for  a  long  time  after 
this.  He  didn't  see  any  other  way  out  of  it. 
The  idea  of  his  going  to  Austin  and  being  shot 
by  that  man  Chisholrn  was  not  exactly  what 
it  was  cracked  up  to  be.  He  knew  that  Chis- 
holm  would  shoot  if  he  got  a  fair  chance,  for 
he  had  already  seen  him  behind  his  revolver  ; 
and  he  didn't  care  to  give  him  another  such  a 


PROVING   THE    WILL.  267 

chance  at  him.  Coyote  Bill  gave  him  time 
to  think  the  matter  over  and  then  said  : 

"Suppose  the  Indians  do  kill  him;  what 
then  ?  It  will  only  be  just  one  stumbling 
block  out  of  your  way.  What  do  you  say  ?" 

"Are  the  Indians  much  given  to  making 
raids  on  the  stockmen  hereabouts?"  asked 
Henderson. 

"They  do  it  just  as  often  as  they  get  out  of 
meat,"  answered  Bill.  "The  only  thing  that 
has  kept  them  from  it  has  been  the  drought. 
They  know  what  these  white  men  are  up  to. 
All  this  country  will  be  settled  tip  some  day, 
and  then  what  will  they  do  to  get  something 
to  eat  ?  It  will  be  perfectly  safe  putting  the 
Indians  on  him." 

"  Well,  go  on  with  it,"  answered  Henderson. 
"  Remember,  I  don't  go  in  for  lifting  a  hand 
against  his  life.  I  want  him  to  know  what  it 
is  to  be  in  poverty.  That's  what  I  am  up  to." 

"  Well,  if  you  find  any  more  poverty- 
stricken  people  in  the  world  than  the  Co- 
manches  are,  I  will  give  it  up,"  said  Coyote 
Bill,  with  a  laugh.  "Let  him  stay  among 
them.  I  will  agree  to  keep  him  safe  for 


268  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

twenty  years.  Now  I  will  go  and  see  what  the 
men  think  about  it.  What  do  you  say  to  that, 
Zeke  ?  This  is  a  squaw-man,"  he  added,  turn- 
ing to  Henderson.  "  The  chief  and  all  of  them 
do  just  as  he  says." 

"  I  say  you  can't  find  a  purtier  place  to  put 
a  man  than  among  the  'Manches,"  said  Zeke, 
as  he  pulled  a  pipe  out  of  his  pocket  ani 
filled  up  for  a  smoke.  "If  you  want  'co 
put  him  whar  he'll  find  poverty,  put  him 
thar." 

"  But  I  am  afraid  to  trust  the  Indians  with 
him,"  said  Henderson.  "They  might  kill 
him." 

"Not  if  the  chief  says  'No,'  they  won't. 
This  here  is  our  chief,"  he  answered,  waving 
his  hand  toward  Coyote  Bill.  "We  aint 
beholden  to  nobody  when  he  says  we  shall 
go  on  a  raid,  an'  I  think  it  high  time  we  were 
doin'  something.  It's  almost  sixteen  months 
since  we  have  seen  any  cattle,  an'  we're  gettin' 
hungry." 

"  Does  Sam  think  the  same  way?"  said  Bill. 

The  man  appealed  to  nodded,  and  so  it  came 
about  that  we  did  not  see  any  of  Coyote  Bill's 


PROVING  THE   WILL.  269 

men  while  we  were  on  our  way  to  Austin.  In 
fact  there  were  not  enough  of  them.  It  would 
have  taken  twice  the  number  of  our  company 
to  have  placed  their  hands  on  that  pocket- 
book,  feeling  as  we  did  then. 

I  never  was  more  shaken  up  than  I  was 
when  I  rode  into  Austin,  but  I  didn't  say 
anything  about  it.  Accustomed  as  I  was  to 
travelling  long  distances  on  horseback,  I  must 
say  that,  when  we  rode  up  to  our  hotel  and 
dismounted,  I  didn't  have  strength  enough  to 
go  another  mile.  Chisholm  was  as  lively  as 
ever.  He  got  off  his  horse  with  alacrity, 
looked  around  him  and  said  : 

u There!  Two  hundred  miles  in  considera- 
bly less  than  forty-eight  hours.  I  guess  Hen- 
derson can't  beat  that.  Seen  anything  of 
him  around,  have  you?" 

The  men  all  answered  in  the  negative. 

"  I  wish  you  boys  would  take  these  horses 
back  to  the  stable,"  said  he,  "and  the  rest 
of  you  stay  by  when  I  call  you.  When  you 
come  back  go  into  the  living  room  with  the 
rest  of  the  boys.  Lem,  you  and  Frank  seat 
yourselves  on  the  porch  and  keep  a  lookout 


270  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

for  Henderson.  If  you  see  him  I  needn't 
remind  you  that  you  are  to  pop  him  over." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Chisholni  ! "  exclaimed  Bob. 

"It  has  to  be  done,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm 
earnestly.  "We  have  stood  as  much  non- 
sense as  we  can.  He  has  tried  his  level  best 
to  steal  our  money  from  us,  and  now  we  have 
got  to  a  place  where  we  can't  be  driven  any 
further.  I've  got  a  little  business  of  my  own 
to  attend  to.  Mr.  Wallace,  who  has  a  thou- 
sand dollars  or  two  of  mine,  is,  I  think,  a 
man  I  can  trust." 

So  saying  Mr.  Chisholm  started  off,  and 
we  all  departed  on  our  errands — Frank  and 
Lem  to  the  porch  to  keep  a  bright  outlook 
for  Henderson,  the  most  of  the  men  to  the 
sitting  room  of  the  hotel  to  wait  Mr.  Chis- 
holm's  return,  and  us  boys  to  take  the  horses 
to  the  stable.  I  was  surprised  when  I  saw 
how  Bob  took  Mr.  Chisholm' s  order  to  heart 
—to  pop  Henderson  over.  I  declare  I  didn't 
feel  so  about  it  at  all.  If  Henderson  so  far 
neglected  his  personal  safety  as  to  continue 
to  pursue  Mr.  Chisholm  when  he  was  on  the 
very  eve  of  getting  the  money,  why,  I  said, 


PROVING   THE   WILL.  271 

let  him  take  the  consequences.  Bob  didn't 
say  anything,  but  I  well  knew  what  he  was 
thinking  about.  If  he  had  had  a  fair  op- 
portunity he  would  have  whispered  to  Hen- 
derson to  keep  away  from  the  porch. 

"  You  musn't  do  it,  Bob,"  I  said  to  him. 

"  Why,  Carlos,  I  can't  bear  that  anybody 
should  get  shot,"  he  answered.  "And  then 
what  will  they  do  to  Lem  and  Frank  for 
obeying  that  order  of  Mr.  Chisholm's  ?" 

"They  won't  do  anything  to  them.  Mr. 
Chisholm  is  willing  to  take  his  chances. 
Don't  you  know  that  they  never  do  any- 
thing to  anyone  who  shoots  a  man  in  this 
country  ? " 

When  we  had  put  the  horses  away  we  re- 
turned to  the  porch,  and  found  Lem  and 
Frank  there  keeping  a  lookout  for  Hender- 
son ;  but  I  would  have  felt  a  good  deal  more 
at  my  ease  if  we  had  known  of  the  interview 
that  Henderson  had  held  with  Coyote  Bill 
in  regard  to  putting  the  Indians  on  Bob. 
We  took  a  look  at  them  and  then  went  into 
the  sitting-room  to  wait  for  Mr.  Chisholm.  He 
was  gone  about  half  an  hour  and  then  he 


272  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

showed  himself.  He  stopped  to  exchange  a 
few  words  with  Lem  and  Frank,  and  then 
coming  into  the  sitting-room  ordered  us  to 
"  catch  up  !  "  We  knew  by  that  that  he  was 
ready  for  us,  so  we  fell  in  two  abreast  and 
followed  Mr.  Chisholm  down  the  street. 

I  wondered  what  the  people  in  the  Eastern 
cities  would  have  thought  of  us  if  they  had 
seen  us  marching  down  the  street,  ten  of  us, 
all  with  a  brace  of  revolvers  slung  to  our 
waists.  The  pedestrians  got  out  of  our  way, 
and  now  and  then  some  fellow,  with  a  brace 
of  revolvers  on,  would  stop  and  look  at  us 
to  see  which  way  we  were  going.  But  we 
did  not  care  for  anybody.  We  kept  close 
at  Mr.  Chisholm' s  heels  until  he  turned  into 
a  narrow  doorway,  and  led  us  up  a  creaking 
pair  of  stairs.  Upon  arriving  at  the  top  he 
threw  open  a  door,  and  we  found  ourselves 
in  the  presence  of  three  or  four  men  who 
sat  leaning  back  in  their  chairs  with  their 
heels  elevated  higher  than  their  heads,  hav- 
ing a  good  time  all  by  themselves.  There 
were  a  lot  of  papers  and  books  scattered 
about,  and  I  took  it  at  once  for  a  lawyer's 


PROVING  THE  WILL.  273 

office.  They  looked  at  us  in  surprise  as  we 
entered,  and  one  of  the  men  took  his  feet 
down  from  the  desk. 

"Shut  the  door,  Lem,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm. 
"Now,  which  of  you  men  is  it  who  proves 
the  wills  ?  You  see,"  he  added,  turning  with 
an  air  of  apology  to  the  other  men  in  the 
room,  "  these  fellows  are  mostly  remembered 
in  the  will,  and  so  I  brought  them  along.  I 
never  proved  a  will  before,  and  so  I  wanted 
men  enough  to  back  me  up." 

"  That  is  all  right,"  said  the  surrogate. 
"Where's  the  will?" 

Mr.  Chisholm  produced  his  pocket-book, 
Bob's  pocket-book,  rather,  the  one  that  had 
taken  Tom  and  me  on  a  four  weeks'  journey 
into  the  country,  and  produced  the  papers, 
while  the  rest  of  us  stood  around  and  waited 
for  him  to  read  them.  The  lawyer  read  it 
in  a  free-and-easy  manner  until  he  came  to 
the  place  where  Bob  was  spoken  of  as  worth 
half  a  million  dollars,  and  then  he  suddenly 
became  interested. 

"Where's  the  man?"  said  he. 

"  Here  he  is,  right  here,"  said  Mr.  Chis- 
18 


274  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

holm.  ult  is  a  big  sum  of  money  for  him 
to  be  worth,  but  he  is  big  enough  to  carry  it." 

"  Why,  sit  down,  gentlemen!  If  you  can't 
get  chairs  enough  to  accommodate  you,  sit 
on  the  table.  A  half  a  million  dollars ! 
Does  anybody  challenge  this  will?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of,"  answered  Mr.  Chis- 
holm.  "It  is  all  there,  and  we  want  it  all, 
every  bit." 

' '  Well,  I'll  have  it  for  you  in  half  an  hour," 
answered  the  lawyer.  "  Suppose  you  come  in 
again  in  that  time." 

"No,  sir  !  Our  time  is  worth  nothing,  and 
if  it  is  all  the  same  to  you,  we'll  have  that 
will  before  we  go  out.  When  I  get  through 
here  I  have  got  to  go  to  the  bank.  Take  your 
time.  We  want  it  done  up  right." 

Whether  there  was  something  in  Mr.  Chis- 
holm's  manner — there  certainly  was  nothing 
in  his  words — that  convinced  the  lawyer  that 
haste  was  desirable,  I  don't  know  ;  but  he  got 
up  with  alacrity,  went  to  his  books,  and  began 
writing,  while  the  rest  of  us  disposed  of  our- 
selves in  various  attitudes  about  the  room. 
The  rest  of  the  men  went  on  with  their  con- 


PROVING  THE   WILL.  275 

versation  where  our  entrance  had  interrupted 
it, — it  was  something  that  afforded  them  a 
great  deal  of  merriment, — and  now  and  then 
the  lawyer  took  part  in  it,  leaving  his  work 
and  coming  over  to  where  the  men  were 
sitting  to  make  his  remarks  carry  weight. 
Mr.  Chisholm  watched  this  for  a  long  time 
and  at  last  boiled  over. 

"See  here,  Mr.  Lawyer,"  said  he,  and  I 
knew  by  the  way  he  spoke  the  words  that  his 
patience  was  all  exhausted  ;  "I  would  thank 
you  to  attend  to  our  business  first." 

The  lawyer  was  evidently  a  man  who  was 
not  in  the  habit  of  being  addressed  in  this 
way.  He  took  a  good  look  at  Mr.  Chisholm, 
at  his  revolvers,  then  ran  his  eye  over  the  rest 
of  us,  and  choking  down  something  that  ap- 
peared to  be  rising  in  his  throat,  he  resumed 
his  writing.  After  that  there  was  no  trouble. 
The  men  ceased  their  conversation,  and  the 
lawyer  went  on  with  his  writing  to  such  good 
purpose  that  in  fifteen  minutes  the  document 
was  done. 

"Now,  who  is  this  boy's  guardian?"  asked 
the  lawyer. 


276  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"  He  hasn't  got  any  that  I  know  of,"  said 
Mr.  Chisholm. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  "  he  added,  turning  to 
Bob. 

"  Sixteen,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Then  you  must  have  a  guardian,"  said  the 
lawyer.  "Hold  on,  now,"  he  continued,  when 
he  saw  Mr.  Chisholm' s  eye  begin  to  flash  and 
his  hand  to  reach  toward  his  pistol.  "This 
guardian  is  a  man  who  can  exercise  much  or 
little  control  over  this  property.  He  can  say 
you  shall  or  you  shall  not  spend  your  money 
for  such  particular  things  ;  but  all  the  while 
the  boy  can  go  on  and  do  as  he  pleases.  It 
does  not  amount  to  anything." 

"  Is  that  paper  all  ready  for  his  signature  ? " 
asked  Mr.  Chisholm. 

"It  is  all  ready  for  the  signature  of  his 
guardian,"  said  the  lawyer.  "But  I  tell  you 
it  won't  amount  to  anything  so  long  as  he  has 
no  one  on  it  to  act  as  his  guardian.  Why 
don't  you  sign  it,  sir?  You  seem  to  be  on 
good  terms  with  him." 

Mr.  Chisholm  did  not  know  what  to  say, 
and  so  he  looked  around  at  us  for  a  solution. 


PEOVITTG  THE   WILL.  277 

But  the  men  all  shook  their  heads  and  looked 
down  at  the  floor.  They  didn't  want  anyone 
to  act  as  Bob's  guardian,  but  would  rather 
that  he  should  spend  the  money  as  he  pleased. 
Finally  Bob  came  to  the  rescue. 

"I  will  sign  it  with  Mr.  Chisholm,  but  with 
no  one  else,"  said  he.  "This  lawyer  knows 
more  than  we  do." 

"  And  won't  you  never  ask  my  consent 
toward  spending  your  money?" 

u  No,  sir  ;  I  never  will." 

"Then  I  will  sign  it.  Remember,  Bob, 
there  aint  to  be  any  foolishness  about  this." 

Mr.  Chisholm  took  the  pen  from  the 
lawyer's  hand  and  signed  his  name  in  bold 
characters,  and  although  there  was  no  occa- 
sion for  Bob's  signature  in  a  legal  point  of 
view,  the  lawyer  was  afraid  to  object  to  it,  for 
there  were  too  many  pistols  in  the  party. 

"There,  now;  it  is  all  right,  and  you're 
master  of  that  money,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm, 
drawing  a  long  breath  of  relief.  "Nobody 
can  get  it  away  from  us  now.  How  much  ? " 

"  Ten  dollars,"  said  the  lawyer. 

As  Bob  didn't  have  any  money,  Henderson 


278  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

having  taken  all  he  had,  Mr.  Chisholm 
counted  out  the  ten  dollars,  after  which  he 
held  out  his  hand  for  the  will.  There  was 
where  he  made  another  mistake.  The  surro- 
gate kept  that  will  upon  file,  and  then  there 
was  no  chance  of  its  being  lost,  and  anyone, 
years  hence,  if  there  happened  to  be  any  legal 
points  with  regard  to  the  disposition  of  this 
property,  could  have  the  will  to  refer  to.  But 
Mr.  Chisholm  didn't  know  that. 

"  I  will  take  that  document  if  you  have  got 
through  with  it,"  said  he. 

"The  will?"  said  the  lawyer.  "  As  soon 
as  you  go  away  I  shall  lock  it  up.  Then  it 
will  be  safe." 

"You  will,  eh?" 

In  an  instant  his  revolver  was  out  and 
covering  the  lawyer's  head.  The  other  men 
sprang  to  their  feet,  but  before  they  could 
make  a  move  they  were  held  in  check  by  four 
revolvers  held  in  the  hands  of  our  own  party. 

"I  have  just  about  submitted  to  all  the 
nonsense  I  can  stand  with  regard  to  this  will," 
said  Mr.  Chisholm,  in  stern  tones.  "You 
made  me  sign  it  as  a  guardeen  when  I  aint  got 


PROVING   THE   WILL.  279 

no  business  to,  and  now  you  want  to  go  and 
take  the  will  away  from  us.  Hand  over  that 
document !  One — two " 

"  There  it  is,  and  you  can  take  it,"  said  the 
lawyer,  turning  white.  "But  I  tell  you  it 
won't  amount  to  anything  as  long  as  you  have 
it  in  your  hands.  There's  the  notice  of  pro- 
bate. You  can  take  that  down  to  the  bank 
with  you,  and  that  is  all  you  want." 

"He  is  right,  Mr.  Chisholm,"  said  Bob, 
who  seemed  to  keep  all  his  wits  about  him. 

"  Has  he  a  right  to  take  the  will  away  from 
us?"  demanded  Mr.  Chisholm,  in  a  stentorian 
voice. 

"I  have  got  wills  here  that  were  left  by 
parties  long  before  you  ever  came  to  this 
country,"  said  the  lawyer,  turning  to  his  safe. 

"Not  by  a  long  sight  you  haven't,"  said 
Mr.  Chisholm.  "I  want  you  to  understand 
that  I  have  been  in  this  country  long  before 
you  ever  came  out  of  a  pettifogger's  office  in 
the  North.  You  can't  take  that  will  away, 
and  that's  all  about  it." 

"Here  is  Jerry  Wolfe's,"  said  the  lawyer, 
taking  from  his  safe  a  big  bundle  of  papers  all 


280  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

neatly  endorsed  as  lie  had  filed  them  away. 
"  You  knew  him,  didn't  you  ?" 

"  Well — yes;  and  a  right  smart  business 
man  he  was.  Did  his  guardeen  leave  his 
papers  here  ? " 

"  His  executor  did,  and  that  amounts  to  the 
same  thing.  And  all  those  in  there  are 
wills." 

"That  may  be  law,  but  it  isn't  justice," 
said  Mr.  Chisholm,  putting  tip  his  revolver 
and  stepping  back  ;  whereupon  the  men  in  his 
party,  who  held  their  pistols  in  their  hands, 
let  down  the  hammers  and  returned  them  to 
their  cases.  "  Have  you  got  done  with  us  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  we  are  all  through." 

"  Well,  if  you  are  right,  I  am  sorry  I  pulled 
my  revolver  on  you  ;  if  you  are  wrong,  I'm 
fiiorry  I  didn't  use  it.  You  see,  I  never  had 
any  experience  before  in  proving  wills,  and  I 
never  want  to  have  another,  unless  I  can  have 
someone  at  my  back  who  knows  more  than 
I  do." 

*'I  assure  you,  it  is  all  right,"  said  the 
lawyer ;  and,  to  show  that  he  was  in  earnest, 
he  cordially  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Chisholm. 


PROVING   THE   WILL.  281 

"  Yon  go  down  to  the  bank,  and  if  Mr.  Wal- 
lace doesn't  say  that  it  is  all  right,  I'll  make 
it  so." 

I,  for  one,  was  glad  to  get  out  of  reach  of 
that  surrogate's  office.  There  was  too  much 
pulling  of  revolvers  to  suit  me.  I  fell  in  be- 
hind Mr.  Chisholm,  who  led  the  way  toward 
the  bank. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

TOM  GETS   SOME  MONEY. 

I  HAVE  often  .quoted  our  leader  as  saying 
that  Mr.  Wallace  was  a  man  whom  he 
could  afford  to  trust,  seeing  that  he  had  the 
handling  of  a  thousand  dollars  or  two  of  his 
money.  In  point  of  fact,  he  had  more  than 
that.  He  had  two  hundred  thousand  dollars 
of  money  in  his  hands  that  Mr.  Chisholm's 
signature  was  good  for — not  banknotes,  for 
they  were  not  as  good  then  as  they  are  now, 
but  specie  ;  and  when  a  man  put  specie  in 
the  bank,  he  always  wanted  to  get  the  same 
when  he  signed  a  check.  The  bank  was  not  a 
great  way  off,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were 
standing  in  the  presence  of  the  cashier. 

"Is  Mr.  Wallace  in?"  asked  Mr.  Chisholm, 
gazing  over  the  heads  of  three  or  four  men 
who  had  come  there  to  do  business. 

"  Step  right  into  his  private  office,"  said  the 
cashier.  "  He  is  waiting  for  you." 


TOM   GETS   SOME   MONEY.  283 

The  private  office  was  a  little  room  that 
opened  off  the  rear  of  the  bank,  and  when  we 
filed  in  you  couldn't  have  gotten  another  man 
in  edgeways.  Mr.  Wallace  was  engaged  with 
some  papers,  but  laid  them  all  down  when  he 
heard  our  big  boots  clattering  on  the  floor. 

"  Hallo,  Ckisholm  !  "  said  he.  "  Well,  you 
found  'em,  didn't  you?  Are  these  men  all 
remembered  in  the  will?  Where's  the  boy? 
Sit  down." 

"I  don't  see  much  chance  to  sit  down 
here,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  looking  around. 
"But,  if  it  suits  you  just  as  well,  I  won't  sit. 
Most  of  these  men  are  remembered  in  the 
will,  and  some  of  'em  aint.  I  brought  'em 
along  with  me  so  as  to  give  me  plenty  of  back- 
ing. This  thing  of  probating  wills  aint  what 
it's  cracked  up  to  be." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  asked  Mr. 
Wallace. 

"  We  found  that  little  surrogate  like  you 
was  telling  me  of,  and  he  won't  let  me  have 
the  will.  Said  he  would  lock  it  up,  and  it 
would  be  safe." 

"That's  all  right.     Supposing  you   should 


284  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

die  to-morrow  and  the  will  should  fall  into 
the  hands  of  some  dishonest  person.  Where 
would  you  be?  The  will  is  there,  and  any- 
body can  get  a  copy  of  it ;  but  nobody  can 
touch  the  will  itself." 

"Oh,  ah!  That's  the  way  the  thing 
stands,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  and  I  thought  he 
felt  a  little  sheepish  over  the  way  he  had 
acted  in  the  surrogate's  office.  "Then  I  was 
wrong  and  he  was  right.  But  then,"  he 
added,  a  bright  idea  striking  him,  "he  made 
me  sign  it  as  guardeen.  I  had  no  business  to 
do  that." 

"  How  old  is  the  boy  ?  Sixteen  ?  Well,  of 
course  he  had  to  have  somebody,  and  he 
thought  you  would  do.  Where  is  the  boy  ? 
I  haven't  congratulated  him  yet." 

"Here  he  is,  right  here,"  said  Mr.  Chis- 
holm,  seizing  Bob  by  the  arm  and  pushing 
him  forward.  "  He  is  a  pretty  fellow  to  have 
a  guardeen,  is  he  not?  He  knows  more  about 
taking  care  of  his  money  than  I  do." 

Bob  blushed  like  a  school-girl  when  he  was 
pushed  out  into  view,  but  he  returned  the 
pressure  of  Mr.  Wallace's  hand,  and  promptly 


TOM   GETS   SOME   MONEY.  285 

accepted  the  seat  that  was  given  to  him.  The 
president  then  went  on  to  tell  Bob  that  he  had 
nearly  seven  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  bonds  and  stocks,  and  about  forty  thou- 
sand dollars  in  specie  ;  did  he  want  some 
of  it? 

"Yes,  sir.  I  should  like  about  ten  thou- 
sand dollars." 

"All  right.  Mr.  Chisholm,  will  you  sign 
for  that?" 

"No,  sir,  I  won't,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm, 
frightened  at  the  amount.  "You  said  you 
wouldn't  ask  me  how  to  spend  your  money." 

"  Bob  can't  get  it  without  you  sign  it,"  said 
Mr.  Wallace.  "I  will  make  out  the  check 
and  you'll  sign  it,  of  course.  You  are  not 
going  to  kick,  the  first  thing!" 

Mr.  Chisholm  looked  around  to  see  what 
the  rest  of  us  thought  about  it,  but  none  of  us 
had  anything  to  say.  Mr.  Wallace  wrote  out 
the  check,  and  then  motioned  to  Mr.  Chis- 
holm to  take  his  chair  and  sign  it ;  and  our 
leader  obeyed  without  a  word  of  protest.  Mr. 
Wallace  then  went  out  of  his  private  office, 
and  in  a  few  moments  returned  with  his  arms 


286  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

filled  with  bags  containing  bright  new  gold 
pieces. 

"I'll  count  them  out  for  you  if  you  want 
me  to,"  said  he,  "but  then  the  whole  sum  is 
right  here  and  the  bags  are  sealed.  What  do 
you  want  of  such  an  amount  of  money,  any 
way?  You  can't  spend  it  out  there  on  the 
ranch." 

"No,  sir.  But  some  of  these  men  have 
been  remembered  in  father's  will,  and  I  want 
to  pay  them  up." 

"Oh!"  said  Mr.  Wallace.  "Well,  then, 
what's  the  reason  you  can't  pay  them  right 
here?  It  will  make  a  ]ess  load  for  you  to 
carry." 

"Now,  Mr.  Wallace,  I  have  got  something 
to  say  about  that,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm. 
"Not  one  cent  do  you  give  the  men  so  long 
as  we  are  in  the  reach  of  bug- juice.  I  want 
them  to  go  home  with  me  as  straight  as  when 
they  came  away." 

"All  right.  WThat  shall  we  do  with  this 
money  ? " 

Mr.  Chisholm  immediately  stepped  forward, 
and  under  his  supervision  the  money  was 


TOM   GETS   SOME  MONEY.  287 

equally  distributed  so  that  each  had  an  equal 
weight  to  carry,  but  I  noticed  that  Lem  and 
Frank  didn't  get  any  of  it.  They  were  the 
ones  who  were  much  too  fond  of  "  bug- juice." 
They  winked  at  me,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Wallace,  I  am  done  with  pro- 
bating wills,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm.  "You 
made  me  sign  as  guardeen  for  a  boy  that  is  as 
well  able  to  take  care  of  his  money  as  I  am, 
and  put  my  name  to  checks  for  which  I  am 
not  at  all  responsible,  and  I  don't  like  your 
way  of  doing  business." 

"  Don't  you  want  some  money  yourself?" 

"  No,  sir,  not  a  red  cent.  The  drought  is 
over  now " 

"This  has  been  fearful  weather,  hasn't  it?" 
asked  Mr.  Wallace,  anxious  to  get  Mr.  Chis- 
holm off  on  his  favorite  topic. 

"  Fearful !  You  follow  the  dead  cattle  that 
we  left  behind  while  on  our  trip  to  the  West 
Fork  of  Trinity,  and  you  can  go  straight  to 
my  house.  We  left  a  trifle  of  over  three  mil- 
lion dollars  on  the  plains,  and  that's  a  heap  of 
money  to  come  out  of  poor  men's  pockets.  I 
wish  you  good-day,  sir." 


288  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

We  all  touched  our  hats  to  Mr.  Wallace 
and  went  out  of  his  private  office,  and  I  drew 
a  long  breath  of  relief.  There  had  been  no 
shooting  done,  and  I  was  glad  of  it.  I  was 
hurrying  ahead  to  get  to  Mr.  Chisholm' s  side, 
to  ask  him  if  that  order  in  regard  to  ' '  popping 
him  over" — that  is  to  say,  Henderson — was 
still  in  force,  when  I  saw  Frank  seize  Bob  by 
the  arm  and  pull  him  back.  I  stayed  back 
with  him,  for  I  wanted  to  see  how  the  thing 
was  coming  out.  I  fell  in  with  Tom  Mason 
right  ahead  of  Bob  and  Elam,  and  Lem  and 
Frank  brought  up  the  rear.  This  was  the 
way  in  which  we  marched  down,  and  Mr. 
Chisholm  couldn't  raise  any  objections  to  it. 
After  we  had  got  fairly  under  way,  I  heard 
Frank  say  to  Bob,  in  a  scarcely  audible 
whisper : 

"  Say,  you  wouldn't  mind  lending  Lem  and 
me  a  twenty,  would  you  1 " 

"  I  should  be  glad  to,  but  the  bag  is  sealed 
up,"  replied  Bob. 

"  Sli !  don't  let  Mr.  Chisholm  know  it.  You 
couldn't  get  the  seal  offn  the  bag,  could  you? 
Lem  and  me  is  mighty  thirsty." 


TOM   GETS   SOME  MONEY.  289 

Bob  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and  I 
could  hardly  keep  from  laughing  outright 
when  I  saw  the  contortions  his  face  went 
through  in  order  to  get  the  seal  off  the  bag. 
He  worked  as  a  boy  never  worked  before,  and 
at  last  I  saw,  by  the  expression  on  his  counte- 
nance, that  he  had  got  the  bag  open.  We 
were  pretty  near  to  the  hotel  when  this  hap- 
pened. I  heard  the  chinking  of  the  pieces  as 
Bob  drew  his  hand  out  and  placed  two  twenty 
dollars  in  Frank's  extended  palm. 

"  Boys,  I  will  give  you  that  to  pay  you  for 
sticking  by  me,"  said  he.  "  Now,  be  careful, 
and  don't  take  too  much." 

"  You're  right;  we'll  stick  by  you,"  said 
Frank.  "  If  you  ever  get  in  a  scrape  like  this 
again,  send  us  word.  We'll  not  take  too 
much.  We  are  afraid  of  Mr.  Chisholm." 

They  had  got  the  money,  and  the  next 
thing  was  to  get  the  whiskey.  Mr.  Chisholm 
thought  he  was  smart,  and,  no  doubt,  he  was 
in  some  things ;  but  he  had  to  deal  with  men 
who  were  as  smart  as  he  was.  When  we  got 
back  to  the  hotel,  Frank  and  Lem  threw  them- 
selves into  the  chairs  they  had  occupied  before, 

19 


290  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

to  keep  a  lookout  for  Henderson  ;  but  Mr. 
Chisholm  spoke  a  word  or  two  to  them,  and 
they  got  up  and  went  into  the  house. 

"Now,  landlord,  catch  up,"  said  Mr.  Chis- 
holm. "  Can  you  get  us  an  early  supper '4 
We  want  to  be  away  from  here  in  an  hour." 

The  landlord  was  all  attention.  He  was  in 
and  out  of  the  bar  a  good  many  times,  but, 
Lem  and  Frank  never  went  near  it.  They  had 
a  good  deal  of  time  to  spend  in  looking  at  the 
pictures  ;  I  saw  a  half  a  dozen  men  talking  to 
them,  and  finally  they  came  back  to  where  we 
were,  and  sat  down.  I  winked  at  Lem,  and 
he  winked  back  at  me,  and  so  I  knew  he  had 
got  it ;  but  how  in  the  world  he  got  it  was  a 
mystery  to  me.  I  did  not  see  him  put  any- 
thing into  his  pocket ;  but,  after  we  had  eaten 
supper  and  were  about  an  hour  on  our  journey 
homeward,  I  saw  the  effects  of  it  very  percep- 
tibly. It  did  not  make  Lem  and  Frank  loud 
and  boisterous,  as  they  generally  were  when 
they  were  full,  but  "  funny "  —all  except 
when  Mr.  Chisholm  came  back  and  scowled  at 
them,  and  then  they  were  as  sober  as  judges. 
The  next  day,  however,  they  were  all  right ; 


TOM   GETS   SOME   MONEY.  291 

but  when  Bob  saw  Frank  stoop  down  and  fill 
his  hat  four  times  at  a  stream  he  was  passing, 
and  drink  it  empty  each  time,  he  said : 

"I  am  sorry  I  gave  you  that  money  yester- 
day. You  had  by  far  too  much." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Frank.  "  But  with  stuff 
like  this,  one  can  drink  all  he  wants  to,  and  it 
won't  go  to  his  head.  But  we  had  a  good 
fill-up  on  account  of  your  success,  and  there 
wasn't  any  shooting  done,  as  I  was  afraid 
there  was  going  to  be." 

"  Shooting  !     I  should  think  not." 

"Well,  now,  I  was  afraid  there  was  going 
to  be.  When  Mr.  Chisholm  was  passing  that 
little  stream  yesterday,  and  reached  down  and 
filled  his  hat,  as  you  saw  me  doing,  it  was  all 
I  could  do  to  keep  Lem  from  shooting  that 
kat  away  from  his  mouth." 

"  Why,  how  far  off  was  he  ? "  enquired  Bob, 
who  had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  that. 

"  We  were  a  hundred  yards  or  so  behind 
him." 

"Why,  the  old  villain!  He  might  have 
missed  the  hat,  and  struck  Mr.  Chisholm 
through  the  face." 


292  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

"That  was  just  what  I  was  afraid  he  was 
going  to  do,  although  I  have  seen  Lem,  when 
he  was  perfectly  sober,  put  all  his  bullets  into 
the  same  hole  at  that  distance.  But  he  is  not 
a  villain,  by  any  means,"  said  Frank  ear- 
nestly. "It  shows  what  a  man  will  do  when 
he  gets  too  much  old  rye  in  him." 

I  tell  you  I  believed  it,  and  I  swore  off  on 
whiskey  then  and  there.  And  I  have  kept  my 
pledge  from  that  day  to  this. 

Lem  and  Frank  being  all  right  and  having 
no  Henderson  to  look  out  for,  we  were  longer 
going  than  we  were  coming,  and  it  took  us  six 
days  to  overtake  our  cattle,  which  were  being 
driven  slowly  toward  their  respective  ranches. 
We  went  a  little  out  of  our  way  to  enable  Bob 
to  visit  his  father's  grave,  and  stood  around 
with  our  hats  in  our  hands  while  Bob's  eyes, 
his  face  suffused  with  tears,  gazed  upon  the 
scene  he  never  was  to  see  again.  I  supposed, 
of  course,  that  Bob,  having  been  admitted  by 
all  hands  to  be  the  heir  of  that  property, 
would  be  allowed  to  rest  in  peace ;  but  I  did 
not  know  Henderson  and  Coyote  Bill.  They 
persecuted  him  from  the  word  go,  and  it  was 


TOM  GETS   SOME  MONEY.  293 

to  end  only  with  his  leaving  the  country.  The 
cattle  were  getting  fat  now,  the  full  mocn  was 
close  at  hand,  and  the  Mexicans  and  Indians 
were  waking  up.  I  heard  the  men  talking 
about  it  as  we  rode  along,  and  only  wished 
I  could  be  there  to  see  some  of  it ;  but  I  tell 
you  one  raid  by  the  Comanches  fairly  took 
that  all  out  of  me. 

On  the  evening  of  the  sixth  day  after  leav- 
ing Austin  we  came  up  with  the  cowboys,  who 
were  camped  in  a  belt  of  post-oaks,  and  long 
before  we  got  up  to  them  we  found  that  they 
had  discovered  us.  Everyone  wanted  to 
know  how  Bob  had  prospered,  and  when  Mr. 
Chisholm  told  them  he  had  been  successful  in 
spite  of  the  surrogate's  efforts  to  cheat  him 
out  of  it,  you  ought  to  have  heard  that  belt 
of  post-oaks  resound  with  their  cheers.  Now 
that  he  had  time  to  think  it  over,  Mr.  Chis- 
holm still  regarded  the  efforts  of  the  surrogate 
to  keep  the  will  as  a  fraud,  notwithstanding 
what  President  Wallace  had  told  him. 

"  Aint  he  just  as  likely  to  die  as  I  am  ? "  he 
demanded.  "And  can't  that  Henderson  go 
there  and  get  that  will  ?  I  tell  you  I  think  it 


294  THE   MISSIXG    POCKET-BOOK. 

would  have  been  safer  in  my  own  hands  than 
his.  But  I  am  d<-.ue  probating  wills  now. 
The  next  time  an;-'»ody  dies  he  can  get  some- 
body else." 

At  last  we  arrived  at  our  ranch  and  found 
everything  there  just  as  we  had  left  it.  The 
cowboys  gazed  in  surprise  at  the  result  of 
Tom's  search,  for  you  will  remember  that  he 
threw  the  things  in  the  middle  of  the  floor 
and  had  not  had  time  to  replace  them.  Then 
Tom  showed  them  the  stick  he  had  used 
in  unearthing  the  pocket-book  and  the 
very  spot  where  he  had  dug  it  out.  There 
weren't  ashes  there  enough  to  conceal  it  from 
anybody  who  had  tried  hard  to  find  it.  I 
could  see  that  Bob  was  very  grateful  to  Tom 
for  what  he  had  done,  and  consequently  I  was 
prepared  for  what  he  had  to  say  to  me 
afterward. 

It  was  two  weeks  before  we  got  our  cattle 
all  rounded  out  and  driven  off  by  themselves 
where  we  could  take  a  look  at  them.  There 
were  not  more  than  five  thousand  head,  all 
the  rest  that  Mr.  Davenport  had  owned  having 
been  left  on  the  prairie  as  a  prey  to  the 


TOM   GETS   SOME   MONEY.  295 

wolves.  He  must  have  lost  as  many  as  ten 
thousand  head,  which  amounted  to  a  con- 
siderable sum.  But  I  ought  to  say  that,  long 
before  this  happened,  Bob  had  brought  all  his 
cowboys  together  and  paid  them  the  money 
that  had  been  left  to  them  in  his  father's  will. 
It  made  less  weight  for  him  to  carry,  and, 
besides,  he  wanted  it  off  his  mind.  I  wish  I 
could  put  it  on  paper,  the  scene  he  had  with 
Mr.  Chisholm,  who  positively  refused  to  pay 
the  money.  It  raised  a  roar  of  laughter, 
which  made  the  old  man  so  mad  that  it  was 
all  he  could  do  to  keep  from  pulling  his 
pistol ;  but  Bob  got  around  him  at  last,  and 
finally  he  gave  in. 

"If  it  is  as  you  say — that  you  want  some 
disinterested  party  to  pay  them  so  that  they 
won't  believe  that  they  have  been  cheated — 
why,  I  will  do  it,"  said  he,  seizing  the  nearest 
bag  of  gold  and  emptying  it  upon  the  table. 
"  But  you  promised  that  there  should  be  no 
foolishness  about  this.  Now,  boys,  watch  me, 
and  see  that  I  don't  make  any  mistake. 
Frank,  you  come  first.  I've  got  an  all  night's 
job  before  me." 


296  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

But  in  an  hour  they  were  all  paid,  and  not 
one  of  the  men  had  a  chance  to  tell  Mr.  Chis- 
holm  that  he  had  made  a  mistake.  They 
received  it  reverently,  for  their  minds  were 
with  the  man  whose  liberality  had  made  so 
great  a  change  in  their  fortunes.  It  was  more 
money  than  they  had  ever  had  before  in  their 
lives. 

Shortly  after  that — the  very  next  day  it 
happened — Bob  said  to  me  in  a  whisper  that 
he  wanted  to  see  me  when  all  the  cowboys  had 
gone  to  the  round-up,  so  I  stayed  behind. 
Elam  had  charge  of  the  cooking  now,  for  I 
had  almost  forgotten  to  say  that  the  Mexican 
had  discharged  himself  when  we  drew  near  to 
the  waters  of  the  west  fork  of  Trinity.  He 
heard  that  there  was  going  to  be  a  fight,  and 
so  took  himself  safe  out  of  reach  of  it.  But 
then  we  didn't  care  for  Elam  ;  he  had  been 
Bob's  friend  all  the  way  through,  and  we  were 
not  afraid  to  trust  him. 

"  Say,  Carlos,  I  hardly  know  how  to  speak 
to  you  about  this,"  said  Bob,  looking  down  at 
the  floor.  "  You  say  Tom  Mason's  friends 
are  rich  ? " 


TOM   GETS   SOME   MONEY.  297 

"Well,  I  know  what  you  have  on  your 
mind,  and  I'll  tell  you  just  what  I  think  about 
it,"  said  I.  "  You  know  Tom  got  into  serious 
trouble  where  he  lived,  and  he  has  somehow 
got  it  into  his  head  that  if  he  can  go  home 
with  five  thousand  dollars,  that  trouble  will 
never  come  up  again.  How  much  truth  there 
is  in  it  I  don't  know." 

"I  know  all  about  his  troubles,  but  he 
ought  not  to  let  them  prey  so  heavily  on  his 
mind.  Now,  how  much  has  he  got  left  ?  " 

"I  think  if  you  give  him  three  thousand 
dollars  he  will  be  all  right." 

"That  is  what  I  think,  too,"  said  Elam. 
"He  don't  belong  in  this  country." 

"  I  know  he  don't.  He  wants  to  get  up  the 
States,  where  quail  and  black  squirrels  are 
handy,  and  have  some  more  fights  with  'Our 
Fellows.'  On  the  whole  I  think  the  scenes 
he  passed  through  with  those  robbers  are 
more  exciting  than  the  scenes  he  passed 
through  here.  If  he  can  get  a  letter  from  his 
uncle,  stating  that  those  things  have  been 
forgotten,  he'll  go  back." 

"  Well,  I  shan't  stay  in  his  way,"  said  Bob. 


298  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"  You  think  three  thousand  dollars  are  all 
he  needs?  I'll  see  him  this  morning.  If  he 
wants  more  he  can  have  it." 

"You  wouldn't  have  found  your  pocket- 
book  if  it  hadn't  been  for  him,"  said  I.  "He 
reminded  me  of  a  dog  on  a  blind  scent.  He 
poked  around  till  he  found  it." 

This  was  all  that  was  necessary  for  Bob  to 
know,  and  during  that  day  I  saw  him  several 
times  daring  the  round-up  talking  with  Tom ; 
but  Tom  insisted  that  he  didn't  want  any- 
thing. About  the  time  that  night  came,  how- 
ever, and  the  cowboys  came  in  tired  and  hun- 
gry, Bob  tipped  me  a  wink,  and  I  followed 
him  behind  one  of  the  wagons  out  of  sight. 

"I  took  him  right  where  he  lived,"  whis- 
pered Bob.  "I  told  him  he  could  go  back  to 
his  uncle,  who  was  all  the  time  worrying 
about  him,  with  more  money  than  he  had 
stolen,  and  he  agreed  to  take  time  to  think  it 
over." 

"He  took  it,  didn't  he?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  and  it  was  all  he  needed.  I  shall  be 
sorry  to  part  with  Tom,  but  then  home  is  the 
place  for  him." 


TOM   GETS    SOME   MONEY.  299 

So  it  was  settled  that  Tom  Mason  was  to 
leave  us  as  soon  as  he  could  get  a  letter  to  his 
uncle.  We  had  always  treated  Tom  as  one 
of  the  family,  but  somehow  we  got  into  the 
habit  of  treating  him  better  than  usual.  But 
time  went  on  and  we  didn't  see  anybody  who 
was  going  into  Austin  to  take  a  letter  for  him. 
Meanwhile,  we  had  bidden  good-by  to  MA\ 
Chisholm  and  all  his  friends,  and  were  fairly 
settled  down  to  our  business  again.  But  there 
was  one  thing  that  was  different  from  what  it, 
was  during  Mr.  Davenport's  lifetime.  Lem 
and  Frank  stayed  about  the  ranch  now 
entirely.  Bob  hadn't  got  over  his  experience 
with  Henderson  and  Coyote  Bill ;  in  fact,  Mr. 
Chisholm  was  the  one  who  recommended  him 
to  keep  them  always  near  him,  and  Bob 
intended  that,  if  they  came  to  his  house,  he 
would  give  them  as  good  as  they  sent. 

Things  went  on  this  way,  we  repeat,  when 
one  day  that  Frank  was  busy  with  some  story 
of  his  cowboy's  life,  we  heard  a  terrible 
clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  approaching  the 
house.  Frank  and  Lem  were  on  hand  in  an 
instant,  and,  with  their  revolvers  in  their 


300  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

hands,  went  out  to  see  what  was  the  matter, 
but  there  was  no  sign  of  Henderson  or  Coyote 
Bill  in  the  men  who  drew  up  at  the  door. 
Two  of  them  were  soldiers  and  the  other  a 
civilian,  and  their  appearance  indicated  that 
they  had  been  through  something  of  a  fight. 
One  of  the  soldiers'  heads  was  all  bloody,  in 
spite  of  the  handkerchief  that  had  been 
bound  around  it,  and  the  horse  of  the  civilian 
seemed  ready  to  drop  from  a  wound  in  his 
side. 

"  What's  up  ?   Indians  ? "  demanded  Frank. 

"  Yes,  and  they're  most  here,"  returned  the 
civilian.  "Can  you  give  us  a  bite  to  eat  and 
change  our  horses  for  us?" 

" Indians!"  repeated  Bob.  "Come  in  and 
sit  down.  You  can  have  all  the  horses  you 
want.  But  Indians  !  "  he  added  with  a  shud- 
der. uln  all  the  eight  years  we  have  been  in 
this  part  of  the  country  we  have  never  known 
them  to  come  so  far  South  before." 

"  Well,  you  will  hear  them  coming  now  if 
you  stay  here,"  said  one  of  the  soldiers. 
"You  had  better  catch  up  and  go  with  us." 

"  Why,  how  did  you  manage  to  get  on  to 


TOM   GETS   SOME  MONEY.  301 

them,  anyway?"  I  asked,  for  like  the  rest  I 
had  been  so  overcome  with  astonishment  that 
I  could  not  say  anything.  "You  look  as 
though  you  have  been  in  a  hard  fight." 

"You  may  safely  say  that,  and  the  way 
they  went  about  it  satisfies  me  that  there  were 
some  white  men  bossing  the  job,"  said  the 
soldier.  "You  see  there  were  twenty-five  of 
us  detailed  to  act  as  guard  to  our  paymaster, 
who  had  a  lot  of  money — I  don't  know  how 
much — to  pay  off  the  men  at  Fort  Worth. 
We  were  going  safely  along  through  a  pass, 
within  a  day's  journey  of  the  fort,  when  they 
jumped  on  us.  I  tell  you  I  never  saw  bullets 
fly  so  thick  before." 

"  Did  they  kill  almost  all  the  guard  at  one 
fire?"  asked  Bob. 

"They  got  about  half  of  us,  and  where  the 
rest  are  now  I  don't  know.  Some  got  through 
to  the  fort  probably,  and  the  rest  of  us,  being 
cut  off,  had  to  save  ourselves  the  best  way  we 
could." 

"  Lem,  you  and  Frank  bring  up  a  horse  for 
each  of  us,"  said  Bob  suddenly.  His  face  was 
pale,  but  I  saw  that  he  had  his  wits  about 


302  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

him.  "You  may  turn  the  rest  loose,  for  we 
have  all  got  to  go  now.  I  wish  those  boys 
who  were  out  with  the  stock  had  warning." 

"I'll  go  and  tell  them,"  said  Frank. 

"No,  you  had  better  stay  by  me,"  said 
Bob.  "If  there  are  some  white  men  bossing 
this,  I  think  you  will  have  all  you  can  do. 
Suppose  Coyote  Bill  is  among  them?" 

"By  George!  I  believe  you're  right,"  said 
Lena. 

He  jumped  off  the  porch,  and  in  company 
with  Frank  went  out  to  the  corral  to  catch  the 
horses  that  were  to  carry  us  safely  out  of 
reach  of  the  Comanches.  Bob  had  found  a 
cloth  and  was  tying  up  the  soldier's  head; 
Elam  was  skirmishing  around  the  house  try- 
ing to  find  something  to  eat ;  the  other  soldier 
was  filling  up  on  water,  of  which  he  had 
long  been  deprived  ;  and  the  balance  were 
busy  gathering  up  their  weapons.  For  myself, 
I  was  thinking  over  a  certain  proposition  that 
had  suddenly  suggested  itself  to  me.  It  was 
a  dangerous  thing,  I  knew;  but  I  didn't  see 
who  else  was  to  do  it. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  EAID  BY   THE  COMANCHES. 

thing  I  was  revolving  in  my  own  mind 
JL  was  this  :  Should  I  go  all  by  myself  and 
warn  the  boys  who  were  herding  cattle  on  the 
plains,  and  so  run  the  risk  of  being  captured 
or  shot  by  the  Comanches,  or  should  I  stay 
with  Bob  and  go  with  him  to  a  place  of  safety  ? 
For  I  knew  that  Lem  and  Frank  would  exert 
themselves  to  take  him  safely  out  of  reach  of 
danger,  while  I  could  not  say  that  for  myself. 
I  would  be  going  right  back  the  way  the  In- 
dians were  coming,  and  to  be  captured — that 
is  what  I  was  afraid  of,  for  I  had  seen  men 
who  were  taken  prisoners  by  the  savages,  and 
I  knew  what  was  in  store  for  me.  But  those 
boys  had  stood  by  us  when  we  were  in  danger 
and  were  willing  to  do  so  again.  While  I  was 
thinking  about  it  my  horse  was  brought  up. 
He  was  a  small  sorrel,  who  had  brought  me  in 
safety  through  many  perilous  places,  and  he 


304  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

was  lithe  and  vigorous  yet.  I  did  not  see  but 
that,  if  I  got  out  on  the  prairie  with  two  or 
there  Indians  after  me,  I  could  make  a  good  run 
yet,  and  perhaps  be  able  to  overtake  my  party 
before  they  had  got  very  far  away.  My  mind 
was  made  up.  Those  boys  would  not  have  de- 
serted me,  and  why  should  I  desert  them  ?  I 
put  my  saddle  on  him,  slipped  on  my  bridle, 
and  threw  the  lariat  off  his  neck.  Then  I 
buckled  my  revolvers  about  my  waist,  picked 
up  my  rifle,  and  mounted. 

u  Good-by,  boys,"  said  I. 

"Why,  where  are  you  going?"  demanded 
Bob.  "  We're  all  going  off  in  a  minute." 

"  I  am  going  out  to  warn  the  boys,"  said  I. 
"I  think  I  will  overtake  you  after  a  while." 

uYou  mustn't  go  !"  exclaimed  Tom.  "  You 
will  be  certain  to  be  captured,  and  you  know 
better  than  we  can  tell  you  what  they  will  do 
to  you." 

"I  know  it  perfectly  well.  But  I  have  no 
kith  or  kin  to  worry  their  heads  about  me, 
and  I  can  go  as  well  as  anybody.  I  know 
right  where  they  are 

"  But  you  have  got  to  go  along  the  road 


A   RAIT)   BY   THE   COMANCHES.  305 

that  the  Indians  are  coming,"  said  the  civil- 
ian, who  was  utterly  astounded  by  my  prop- 
osition. 

"  I  know  that  too,  but  somebody  must  go,  or 
leave  those  fellows  to  be  killed.  Come  and 
shake  hands  with  me,  boys,  and  let  me  go.". 

"  You  are  a  brave  lad,  and  I  hope  you  will 
come  out  all  right,''  said  Frank,  as  the  boys 
came  up  one  after  the  other.  Elam  and  Tom 
didn't  have  a  word  to  say,  but  they  were  badly 
cut  up.  Bob's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  and 
he  clung  to  me  with  both  hands. 

"  Carlos,  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  come  to 
this  decision,"  said  he.  "  Why  can't  some- 
body else  go  ?  You  have  been  with  me  so 
long  that  you  are  like  a  brother  to  me." 

"  The  best  of  brothers  must  part  some  time 
or  other, '' said  I.  "If  I  fall  nobody  will  be 
the  wiser  for  it,  except  you  fellows  right 
around  here.  Good-by,  everybody,"  I  cried, 
and  with  a  circular  sweep  of  my  arm  to  include 
all  hands,  I  wheeled  my  horse  and  started  on 
my  lonely  journey.  "There  are  some- fellows 
who  will  be  sorry  if  anything  happens  to  me," 
I  soliloquized.  "  During  the  time  I  have  been 
20 


306  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

with  them  I  have  never  made  anybody  mad, 
and  that's  a  heap  to  say  for  a  man  who  has 
been  to  Texas.  Now  the  next  thing  for  me  is 
to  look  out  for  myself." 

In  spite  of  all  this  delay,  occasioned  by 
asking  and  answering  so  many  questions,  not 
more  than  five  minutes  elapsed  before  I  was 
on  my  way  to  warn  the  cowboys.  One  learns 
to  think  rapidly  when  living  on  the  frontier, 
and  while  we  talked  we  worked.  In  a  few 
minutes  I  was  beyond  reach  of  the  grove,  and 
taking  my  horse  well  in  hand  rode  forward 
at  about  half  pace,  and  in  half  an  hour  more 
this  grove  was  out  of  sight  behind  the  swells 
and  the  last  glimpse  of  the  ranch  had  dis- 
appeared. I  was  alone  on  the  prairie,  and 
a  feeling  of  depression  I  had  never  before 
experienced  came  over  me.  I  kept  my  horse 
at  half  pace  because  I  didn't  know  how  soon 
he  would  be  called  upon  to  exert  himself  to 
the  utmost,  and  I  did  not  want  to  ride  a 
wearied  nag  in  my  struggle  for  life.  The 
horse  knew  that  there  was  something  going 
on,  for  he  kept  his  eyes  and  ears  constantly 
on  the  alert,  and  having  more  faith  in  him 


A   EAID   BY  THE  COMANCHES.  307 

than  I  had  in  myself,  I  watched  him  closely. 
I  was  certain  that  he  would  smell  an  Indian 
long  before  I  could  see  him. 

At  the  end  of  another  half  hour  I  began 
to  wonder  why  I  did  not  see  some  signs  of 
the  cowboys,  but  there  was  nothing  in  sight. 
Nothing,  did  I  say?  Away  off  to  the  left 
loomed  up  a  body  which  was  lying  in  the 
grass.  I  couldn'  t  tell  whether  it  was  a  beef 
or  a  horse,  for  it  was  about  half  a  mile  away. 
My  horse  discovered  it  at  the  same  time  and 
snorted  loudly. 

4 '  There  is  something  over  there  as  sure  as 
you  are  a  foot  high,"  said  I  to  myself,  looking 
all  around  to  see  what  sort  of  a  place  I  was 
going  to  get  in.  I  didn't  like  the  appear- 
ance of  things  where  that  body  lay.  On  all 
sides  of  it,  except  the  one  by  which  I  en- 
tered, was  a  ravine,  and  it  was  so  deep 
that  I  could  just  see  the  tops  of  the  wil- 
lows growing  up  out  of  it — a  splendid  place 
indeed  for  an  ambuscade.  I  didn't  want 
to  go  in  there,  and  that  was  the  long 
and  short  of  it.  "I  must  go  in  there  and 
see  what  that  is,"  said  I,  after  taking  note  of 


308  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

all  these  little  things.  "  It  may  be  something 
that  will  tell  me  of  the  fate  of  the  cowboys." 

If  my  horse  had  refused  to  go  in  there  I 
believe  I  should  have  ridden  back  to  the 
ranch  and  never  thought  that  I  was  guilty  of 
cowardice  ;  but  he  didn't.  When  I  called  on 
him  to  go  ahead  he  went,  but  he  did  not  seem 
to  be  holding  his  course  toward  the  dead  beef 
or  horse  I  have  spoken  of,  but  turned  a  little 
to  the  right  as  if  he  were  seeking  evidence 
a  little  further  on.  Wondering  what  there 
was  that  my  horse  had  in  his  mind,  I  hu- 
mored him,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  horror- 
stricken  at  the  scene  he  brought  me  to. 
There,  flat  on  his  back,  stripped,  scalped, 
his  head  beaten  in  by  a  stone  or  some 
other  blunt  instrument,  and  mutilated  be- 
yond description,  lay  Sam  Noble,  one  of 
our  cowboys.  Where  the  other  two  were 
I  didn't  know,  nor  did  I  waste  any  time 
looking  for  them.  I  shall  never  forget  it 
as  long  as  I  live.  He  had  evidently  been 
killed  before  he  was  captured,  which  was  a 
lucky  thing  for  Sam. 

As  soon   as    I   could  recover    my  breath  I 


A   RAID   BY   THE   COMANCHES.  309 

pulled  my  horse  about  and  took  the  back 
trail  with  long  jumps,  but  before  my  horse 
had  made  half  a  dozen  leaps  I  saw  that  I 
was  captured.  Three  Indians  came  riding 
out  of  the  ravine  on  my  left,  and  scarcely 
had  they  been  discovered,  when  three  or 
four  more  came  from  the  ravine  on  my  right. 
What  was  I  to  do  ?  I  had  heard  that  when 
a  white  man  was  surrounded  by  Indians,  if 
he  would  raise  his  gun  in  the  act  of  shooting, 
every  Indian  would  at  once  get  behind  his 
horse.  I  don't  know  why  that  came  into  my 
mind,  but  I  tried  it  then  and  there,  and  in 
an  instant  two  of  the  Indians  were  out  of 
sight.  They  had  gone  down  on  the  other 
side  of  their  horses,  so  that  I  had  nothing 
but  a  leg  and  a  small  portion  of  the  head  to 
shoot  at.  The  third  Indian,  however,  re- 
tained his  upright  position,  and,  holding  up 
his  bare  hand  to  me,  shouted  : 
"Don't  shoot!  We're  friends." 
You  can  imagine  what  my  feelings  were 
as  I  sat  there  and  listened  to  those  words. 
They  were  my  friends,  and  yet  Sam  Noble 
had  been  killed  that  very  morning  in  the 


310  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

effort  to  escape  from  them  !  While  I  held 
my  rifle  in  my  hands  and  sat  there  debat- 
ing the  question,  the  Indians  came  quite 
close  to  me,  too  late  to  escape,  and  I  yielded 
to  them  like  one  in  a  dream.  I  was  able 
to  tell  now  what  savages  looked  like  in 
their  war-paint ;  and  although  they  were 
hideous  enough  before,  you  can't  conceive 
what  a  difference  those  streaks  of  red  and 
yellow  paint  made  in  their  appearance. 
They  looked  just  awful.  The  white  man 
was  the  only  one  among  them  that  was  not 
painted,  and  I  felt  more  like  surrendering 
my  weapons  to  him  than  I  did  to  any  of 
his  savage  crew.  But  I  didn't  get  the 
chance.  The  first  one  who  held  out  his 
hand  for  my  rifle  was  an  Indian,  and  I 
readily  gave  it  up  to  him.  The  other  Indian 
seized  my  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  the  white 
man,  after  securing  my  revolvers  and  buck- 
ling them  around  his  own  waist,  open  my 
shirt  and  felt  all  around  for  the  belt  that 
contained  my  money  ;  but  he  couldn't  find  it. 
"Where  is  it?"  said  he,  with  something 
that  sounded  like  an  oath. 


A    RAID   BY   THE   COMANCHES.  311 

"  Where  is  what?"  I  asked,  for  I  had  by 
this  time  recovered  my  wits.  I  had  no  idea 
what  would  happen  to  me  afterward,  but  I 
knew  that  so  lo.ig  as  I  behaved  myself  with 
them  I  need  not  stand  in  fear  of  bodily  harm. 

"The  belt,"  replied  the  man.  "  You 
didn't  bring  it  with  you?" 

"It  is  hidden  at  the  ranch,"  I  replied. 
"  We  thought  that  somebody  might  try  to 
take  it  away  from  us." 

"Well,  we  will  have  to  go  after  it,  and 
you  will  have  to  show  us  where  it  is,"  said 
the  man.  "  But  first  I  must  take  you  down 
here  to  show  you  to  spmebody  here  who 
is  anxious  to  see  you." 

"To  show  me  to  somebody?"  I  exclaimed, 
lost  in  wonder,  as  the  redskin  who  held  my 
horse  turned  me  around.  I  wasn't  terrified 
any  longer.  My  fright  had  given  place  to 
something  that  was  stronger  than  fear,  and 
I  was  amazed  at  the  words  the  man  said. 
"Somebody"  wanted  to  see  me,  and  I  won- 
dered who  that  somebody  could  be.  Could 
it  be  Coyote  Bill  ?  If  it  was,  I  was  on  net- 
tles. He  would  propose  to  me  to  "become 


312  THE   MISSING    POCKET-BOOK. 

one  of  them,"  and  when  I  refused,  what 
would  happen  to  me  ?  I  resolved  to  follow 
that  matter  up  a  little. 

"Yes,  sir;  there's  a  man  that  wants  to  see 
you,"  said  he.  "  He  has  got  a  name  around 
here  that  you  don't  want  to  know  too  much 
about,  too." 

"Know  too  much  about  him?  Why,  I 
know  about  him  already.  Is  it  Coyote 
Bill?" 

The  man  seemed  surprised  that  I  spoke 
his  name  so  readily.  He  looked  at  me  as 
though  he  hardly  knew  what  to  say. 

"How  did  you  learn  what  his  name 
was?"  he  asked  at  length. 

"One  of  my  chums  guessed  it,"  I  replied. 
u  Anybody  who  knows  anything  about  Coyote 
Bill  would  know  that  he  didn't  come  on  that 
ranch  for  nothing." 

The  man  said  no  more,  but  I  was  satis- 
fied from  the  little  he  did  say  that  I  was 
right  in  my  conjectures.  There  was  another 
thing  that  was  strange  to  me,  and  the  longer 
I  thought  of  it  the  more  bewildered  I  be- 
came. This  white  man  had  been  to  school, 


A   RAID   BY   THE   COMANCHES.  313 

had  received  the  benefits  of  an  education, 
and  how  did  it  come  that  he  was  there 
among  the  Indians  ?  There  was  something 
strange  about  him  and  Coyote  Bill,  and  I 
wanted  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  it,  but  I 
may  add  that  I  never  did.  I  took  a  good 
look  at  the  man  who  rode  by  my  side,  and 
I  didn't  see  anything  more  desperate  about 
him  than  I  had  seen  about  Coyote  Bill. 
Take  his  weapons  and  buckskin  suit  away 
from  him,  and  dress  him  up  in  fine  clothing, 
and  he  would  have  passed  for  a  business  man 
anywhere. 

There  was  another  thing  that  worried  me  as 
I  rode  along.  I  wondered  if  any  such  cap- 
ture had  ever  been  made  by  hostile  Indians 
before.  The  savages  paid  no  more  attention 
to  me  than  if  I  was  one  of  themselves,  but 
seemed  to  have  given  me  up  entirely  to  the 
white  man.  As  soon  as  we  got  through  the 
willows  and  came  out  on  the  prairie  again,  we 
rode  along  in  single  file,  the  white  man  just 
ahead  and  the  others  bringing  up  the  rear,  so 
escape  was  simply  impossible.  I  knew  I  must 
see  that  " somebody"  who  was  so  anxious  to 


CJL4  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

see  me,  and  I  nerved  myself  for  the  test.  I 
had  nothing  to  fear  until  I  saw  him. 

"Can  these  Indians  speak  English?"  I 
asked,  at  length. 

"No,"  replied  the  white  man.  "You  can  say 
what  you  please  and  they  won't  tell  on  you." 

"Well,  the  question  I  should  like  to  have 
you  answer  is,  How  in  the  world  you  ever 
came  out  here  among  them  ?"  said  I.  "  You 
have  been  to  school  and  don't  talk  as  these 
Texans  generally  do." 

"  No,  I  have  been  to  school ;  that's  a  fact," 
said  the  man,  after  hesitating  a  little. 

"  What  sent  you  down  here  ? " 

"  Look  here,  my  friend,"  said  the  man, 
tnrning  around  in  his  saddle  and  looking  at 
me  with  his  snapping  gray  eyes;  "I  didn't 
agree  to  take  you  into  my  confidence." 

He  used  the  very  same  words  to  me  that 
Coyote  Bill  had  used  when  I  asked  him  the 
same  question  ;  and  he  didn't  seem  to  be 
angry  about  it,  either. 

"What  made  you  think  anything  brought 
me  down  here?"  he  asked.  "What  brought 
you  down  here?" 


A  EAID   BY   THE  COMANCHES.  315 

"I  came  to  buy  cattle,  but  the  drought  had 
got  in  ahead  of  me  and  I  thought  I  would 
wait  until  it  was  over.  Hallo !  What's  the 
matter  with  you  ?" 

"You  came  down  here  to  buy  cattle?" 
exclaimed  the  man,  looking  at  me  with  an 
expression  of  great  astonishment  on  his  face. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  did  ;  and  there  are  two  other 
boys  in  my  party.  But  what  surprises  you 
so  greatly  ? " 

"Then  your  name  isn't  Bob  Davenport?" 

I  said  it  was  not,  but  I  didn't  tell  him  what 
my  name  was.  I  knew  Bob  very  well,  and 
had  left  him  at  the  ranch  that  morning.  I 
didn't  say,  however,  that  he  was  making  hur- 
ried preparations  for  flight,  for  I  thought  that 
was  something  the  man  could  find  out  for 
himself.  The  man  listened  in  amazement, 
and,  when  I  got  through,  uttered  a  string  of 
oaths. 

"  Set  me  down  for  a  blockhead,  and  you'll 
hit  it,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak. 
"  I  might  have  known  that  you  were  not  the 
fellow." 

"Did  you  calculate  to  capture  Bob?"     I 


316  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

enquired,  and  my  astonishment  and  delight 
were  so  strong  that  it  was  all  I  could  do  to 
repress  them.  That  is  what  I  meant  when  I 
said  that  Henderson  and  Coyote  Bill  began 
persecuting  Bob  at  once  on  account  of  his 
wealth,  and  did  not  intend  to  let  up  on  him 
until  he  had  been  driven  from  the  country.  I 
saw  through  the  whole  scheme  at  once.  They 
intended  to  keep  Bob  a  prisoner  among  the 
Indians  until  he  was  ready  to  do  just  as  they 
Avanted  him  to  do,  and  that  would  be  to  sign 
his  property  over  to  Henderson.  It  didn't 
look  to  me  as  though  that  plan  would  work, 
but  Henderson  evidently  knew  some  way  to 
get  around  it. 

"  Why,  of  course  I  intended  to  capture  Bob 

Davenport,"  said  the  man,  and  it  was  plain 

enough  to  see  that  what  I  had  said  made  him 

very  angry.     "  What  use  are  you  to  me  ?     If 

I   had    known    that    you    were    not    Bob    I 

wouldn't  have   taken   you   prisoner." 

"  What  would  you  have  done  to  me  ?  " 

"  You  saw  that  man  up  there  that  was  shot 

from  his   horse,  didn't  you?"  said  he,   in  a 

very  significant   tone  of  voice.     "Well,   you 


A    RAID    BY   THE   COMANCHES.  317 

would  have  been  that  way  now.  I  could 
make  mince-meat  of  you  in  two  minutes  !"  he 
added  fiercely.  "  There's  timber  right  ahead, 
and  the  redskins  are  just  aching  to  get  their 
hands  on  you.  But  then  you  are  a  brave 
boy  ;  I  will  say  that  much  for  you.  It  isn't 
everyone  who  would  go  on  and  talk  so  when 
he  found  himself  a  prisoner  among  hostile 
Indians.  I'll  wait  until  I  see  what  Coyote 
Bill  will  have  to  say  about  you." 

I  tell  you  I  was  afraid  of  this,  and  my  only 
hope  of  salvation  lay  with  Coyote  Bill.  I 
rode  along  in  silence  after  that  and  never  had 
anything  more  to  say.  I  knew  what  the  man 
meant  when  he  referred  to  the  timber  right 
ahead.  All  that  was  needed  for  him  was  to 
tell  the  Indians  that  his  protection  for  me 
was  withdrawn,  and  in  two  minutes  I  would 
have  been  stripped  and  staked  out,  and  a 
fire  burning  at  one  of  my  feet.  All  that 
stood  in  his  way  of  saying  that  was  Coyote 
Bill. 

"  I  do  know  something  that  I  want  to  tell 
Bill,"  I  said. 

"Very   well,   then  keep  it  for  him,"   an- 


318  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

swered  the  man.  "I  don't  want  to  talk  to 
you  any  more." 

All  that  day  and  until  far  into  the  night  I 
rode  along  without  seeing  a  living  soul,  never 
once  stopping  to  give  our  horses  a  bite  to  eat. 
and  then  I  suddenly  became  aware  that  we 
were  in  the  camp  of  Indians.  While  we  were 
going  along  a  redskin  sprang  up  on  our  right 
and  addressed  a  few  words  to  us  in  his  native 
tongue,  and  then  sank  out  of  sight  again.  He 
was  one  of  the  sentries  who  were  out  to  watch 
the  cattle  and  see  that  they  didn't  stampede. 
We  kept  on  and  in  a  few  minutes  reached 
the  timber.  There  was  no  one  in  sight,  and 
no  preparations  made  for  supper,  and  I  felt 
about  half-starved. 

"  You  can  take  off  your  saddle  and  bridle 
9>nd  camp  here  under  this  tree,"  said  the  man. 
"  Let  your  horse  go  where  he  is  a  mind  to." 

So  saying  he  rode  off,  accompanied  by  all 
the  Indians  save  two,  whom  he  left  to  act  as 
my  guards.  As  I  felt  tired  and  discouraged, 
too,  it  did  not  take  me  long  to  comply  with 
the  white  man's  orders,  and  when  I  removed 
the  saddle  from  the  horse  I  judged  by  the 


A   RAID   BY   THE   COMANCHES.  319 

way  he  shook  himself  and  went  to  cropping 
the  grass  beneath  his  feet,  that  he  was  as 
hungry  as  I  was.  While  I  was  thus  engaged 
the  Indians  bustled  about,  and  when  I  had 
thrown  myself  on  the  ground,  with  my  saddle 
for  a  pillow,  I  found  that  they  had  a  little  fire 
kindled  ;  a  very  little  fire,  over  which  a  white 
man  would  freeze  to  death,  but  they  sat 
around  it  and  warmed  their  hands  with  evi- 
dent satisfaction.  But  not  a  word  was  said 
about  supper,  and  I  began  to  think  I  should 
have  to  go  hungry  to  bed,  when  I  heard  the 
twigs  cracking  out  in  the  timber,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  up  came  the  white  man,  accompanied 
by  Henderson  and  Coyote  Bill.  I  wasn't  so 
surprised  to  see  Henderson  there  as  a  good 
many  people  might  think.  He  was  with 
Coyote  'Bill,  and  of  course  he  was  bound  to 
take  up  with  Bill's  companionship. 

"Well,  well,  Carlos;  how  are  you?"  said 
Bill ;  and  to  show  that  he  was  in  a  humorous 
mood,  he  backed  toward  a  little  mound  of 
earth,  sat  down  upon  it,  and  laughed 
uproariously. 

"How  do  you  do?"  said  I,  taking  a  few 


320  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

steps  toward  Bill  and  extending  my  band  ;  for 
I  thought,  if  I  could  lead  the  man  to  shake 
hands  with  me,  I  would  be  all  right. 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to  shake  hands  with 
you,"  said  he.  "The  Indians  are  on  the 
watch,  and  they  take  that  as  a  sign  of  friend- 
ship. But  what  in  the  world  induced  you 
to  come  out?  Why  didn't  you  stay  at  the 
ranch?  You  have  got  yourself  in  a  pretty 
fix!" 

"  I  say  give  him  a  dose  of  lead,"  muttered 
Henderson,  who  was  almost  overcome  with 
rage.  "I'll  have  him  out  of  my  way,  at  any 
rate." 

"That's  enough  out  of  you,"  said  Coyote 
Bill.  u  Such  things  are  only  done  here  when 
I  say  the  word." 

"  Hasn't  that  boy  been  in  my  way  ever  since 
I  have  been  here?"  exclaimed  Henderson. 
"  Didn't  he  go  out  to  the  ranch  and  find  that 
pocket-book  ?" 

I  was  astonished  to  hear  Henderson  talk 
that  way.  He  had  been  growing  worse  instead 
of  better  ;  but,  after  all,  when  I  came  to  con- 
sider the  matter,  I  didn't  see  that  there  was 


A   RAID   BY   THE   COMATSTCHES.  321 

anything  so  very  surprising  about  it.  Some 
writer  has  said  that  if  we  don't  grow  better  we 
grow  worse,  and  that  was  what  was  the  matter 
with  Henderson.  One  of  the  first  things  he 
spoke  of  in  regard  to  Bob  was,  that  no  finger 
should  be  lifted  against  his  life  ;  and  here  he 
was  going  to  shoot  me  who  hadn'  t  done  any- 
thing to  him. 

"He  got  the  pocket-book  because  we  were 
not  fortunate  enough  to  look  where  it  was," 
said  Coyote  Bill.  "Now,  Henderson,  I  don't 
want  to  hear  another  word  out  of  you.  You 
are  under  my  protection  now,  but  the  minute 
I  withdraw  it — well,  you  know  what  will 
happen." 

"  You  asked  what  should  be  done  with  that 
boy,"  said  Henderson.  "Well,  I  have  told 
you." 

"  But  I  didn't  think  you  would  propose  any 
fool  thing  like  that,"  said  Bill.  "  I  must  first 
take  Carlos  back  to  the  house  with  me.  You 
know  where  all  that  money  is  kept  hidden, 
I  suppose  ?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  know  where  it  is,"  I  an- 
swered, considerably  surprised.  To  think 
21 


322  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

that  any  man  in  his  sober  senses  would  go  off 
and  leave  his  money  behind  him,  was  ridic- 
ulous. I  looked  at  Coyote  Bill  to  see  if  he 
meant  what  he  said,  but  it  was  so  dark  that 
I  couldn't  see  the  expression  of  his  face  ;  but 
Henderson  evidently  knew  what  he  was  speak- 
ing about  when  he  said,  in  a  voice  choked 
with  passion : 

' '  You  are  going  to  lay  a  plan  for  him  to 
escape.  I  wish  I  could  talk  to  these  Indians, 
for  then  I  could  let  them  see  what  you  are 
up  to!" 

"  What  I  choose  to  do  is  nothing  to  you  !  " 
said  Bill,  as  he  turned  fiercely  upon  Hender- 
son. "  Once  more,  and  for  the  last  time,  I  ask 
you  to  keep  still.  How  did  you  find  out  that 
we  were  coming,  any  way?"  he  added,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  me. 

"There  were  three  men  came  along  who 
had  plainly  been  in  some  sort  of  a  fight,"  said 
I.  "  We  wanted  to  know  what  the  trouble 
was,  and  they  told  us." 

"Ah,  yes  !  Did  they  tell  you  about  the 
mule  that  got  away  from  us?" 

"I  don't  know  what  mule  you  mean." 


A   RAID   BY  THE  COMANCHES.  323 

"We  got  all  the  money  except  five  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  that  was  supposed  to  be 
packed  on  a  mule  that  lit  out.  He  was  shot 
three  or  four  times,  but  I  never  saw  anything 
run  as  he  did." 

"And  did  he  escape?" 

"Well,  I  should  say  so.  He  took  right 
down  toward  your  ranch,  too,  and  I  didn't 
know  but  you  had  seen  him  there." 

"And  yet,  in  the  face  of  all  this " 

Henderson  didn't  say  any  more,  for  Coyote 
Bill  turned  around  and  looked  at  him.  He 
thought  his  companion  was  in  earnest  when 
he  told  him  to  keep  still. 

"I  didn't  know  but  that  it  would  be  a 
good  chance  for  lucky  Tom  to  try  his  hand 
on  that  mule,"  said  Coyote  Bill,  with  a  smile. 
"He  has  been  lucky  in  finding  one  pocket- 
book,  and  he  might  be  equally  lucky  in 
this." 

"He  will  go  down  among  those  rich  cattle- 
men and  be  captured,"  said  Henderson  bit- 
terly. "The  men  who  don't  care  a  cent  for 
those  five  thousand  dollars  will  have  just  that 
much  more  to  jingle  in  their  pockets ;  while 


THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

we,  who  are  hard  up  for  the  money— dog-gone 
the  luck  !  it  is  so  the  world  over." 

Coyote  Bill  laughed  again. 

"I  don't  see  anything  so  very  laughable 
about  this  matter,"  said  Henderson.  "  You 
laughed  because  we  got  the  wrong  boy " 

"That  will  do,"  said  Bill.  "You  are  get- 
ting off  on  your  old  subject,  and  I  won't  sit 
here  and  be  abused.  Haven't  had  any  supper 
yet,  have  you,  Carlos?" 

"No,  I  haven't;  and  I  feel  as  though  I 
could  do  justice  to  some  corn  bread  and 
bacon." 

"  Well,  then,  come  with  me." 

Turning  to  the  Indians,  he  addressed  some 
words  to  them  in  their  native  tongue, — it 
sounded  like  gibberish  to  me, — and  started  at 
once  into  the  woods,  while  I  picked  up  my 
saddle  and  bridle  and  followed  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

MY   FRIEND   THE   OUTLAW. 


tllis  ban&s  me  completely,'' 
thought  I,  as  I  shouldered  my 
bundle  and  stumbled  along  behind  my  leader 
through  the  darkness.  "  But  I  would  like  to 
know  if  any  white  man  has  ever  been  captured 
before  by  hostile  Indians  and  treated  in  this 
way.  Coyote  Bill  seems  to  have  the  power  in 
his  own  hands,  doesn't  he?  I  tell  you,  he  is 
a  power  in  this  land,  and  if  he  will  let  me  get 
away  from  him  this  time,  he'll  never  see  me 
again.  I'll  go  for  the  States  the  very  first 
chance  I  get." 

Bill  seemed  to  know  just  how  fast  I  could 
go  to  keep  up  with  him,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
I  saw  a  light  shining  through  between  the 
trees,  and  presently  I  was  ushered  into  his 
camp.  There  were  three  or  four  men  lying 
around  the  fire,  and  they  started  up  and 
looked  at  us. 


326  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

"We  have  caught  the  wrong  boy,"  said 
Bill,  waving  his  hand  to  show  that  I  could  put 
my  saddle  and  bridle  down  where  I  pleased  ; 
"  but  he  has  got  to  show  us  the  place  where 
that  money  is  hidden  before  he  gets  away. 
He  hasn't  had  anything  to  eat,  and  is 
hungry." 

I  sat  down  and  looked  at  the  men,  and,  I 
tell  you,  some  of  them  were  pretty  rough 
characters.  I  was  glad  indeed  that  I  had 
fallen  into  the  power  of  Bill's  best  looking 
man,  for  if  I  had  been  captured  by  any  one  of 
the  men  sitting  there  at  the  fire,  I  should 
have  fared  badly.  They  expressed  a  senti- 
ment of  strong  disgust  when  Bill  spoke  of 
having  captured  the  wrong  boy,  but  no  atten- 
tion was  paid  to  it.  He  proceeded  to  fill  a 
long  pipe  very  carefully,  after  which  he  went 
off  into  the  darkness,  while  another  man  set 
before  me  some  bacon  and  corn  bread.  It  was 
not  enough  to  satisfy  my  appetite,  but  I  was 
glad  to  get  what  there  was,  and  in  a  short 
time  it  had  all  disappeared.  Then  I  filled  my 
pipe  and  settled  back  for  a  smoke. 

"  Where  do  you  suppose  Bill  is  gone?"  I 


MY   FRIEND   THE   OUTLAW.  327 

asked,  addressing  my  enquiries   to  whoever 
had  a  mind  to  answer  it. 

Henderson  was  there,  and  in  forming  this 
question  I  looked  particularly  hard  at.  him, 
not  because  I  wished  him  to  reply  to  it,  but 
because  I  wished  to  see  how  he  took  matters. 
He  was  as  mad  as  he  was  in  camp  when  Mr. 
Chisholm  found  that  he  had  got  hold  of  the 
pocket-book  containing  the  receipts,  and  not 
hold  of  the  one  that  contained  the  will. 

"  He  has  gone  off  to  get  permission  of  the 
chief  to  burn  you  at  sunrise,"  said  he  spite- 
fully. 

"  Sho  !  "  said  I,  for  I  knew  that  Henderson 
had  made  this  all  up  out  of  his  own  head. 
"Then  he  won't  get  the  money." 

" That's  the  only  thing  that  makes  me  think 
he  won't  do  it,"  said  Henderson.  "But  you 
will  be  gone  up  the  next  time  you  come  here. 
How  did  you  know  that  we  were  after  the 
money,  anyway  ? " 

I  repeated  what  I  had  said  to  Bill,  and  that 
was  nothing  but  the  truth. 

"  There  were  three  white  men  in  the  party, 
and  they  said,  from  the  way  you  went  about 


328  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

it,  they  were  satisfied  that  there  were  some 
renegades  bossing  the  job,"  answered  I ;  and 
then  I  was  almost  sorry  I  said  it.  I  did  not 
know  how  they  would  take  the  name  "rene- 
gades," as  applied  to  themselves  ;  but  Hender- 
son was  the  only  one  who  understood  it. 

•u  And  what  made  us  renegades  ? "  he  asked, 
and  I  believed  that  the  presence  of  the  men 
was  all  that  kept  him  from  doing  something 
desperate.  "We  killed  almost  all  the  guards 
at  the  first  fire — I  got  two  of  them,  I  know, 
and  I  wish  we  had  got  them  all.  Renegades  ! 
That  is  a  vile  and  worthless  fellow,"  he  added, 
turning  to  the  men  who  were  sitting  around. 
"  That's  the  kind  of  men  you  be." 

Some  of  the  men  laughed,  while  others 
acted  as  though  they  didn't  care  what  men's 
opinions  were  of  them  so  long  as  they  were 
permitted  to  enjoy  themselves.  I  saw  that 
Henderson  was  trying  to  work  the  men  up  to 
do  something  to  me  before  Coyote  Bill  could 
get  back,  and  I  didn'  t  think  any  more  of  him 
for  it. 

"Thar  is  one  thing  about  that  attack  that 
I  shall  always  be  sorry  for,"  said  one  of  the 


MY   FRIEND   THE   OUTLAW.  329 

fierce-looking  men.  "  You  know  I,  for  one, 
had  occasion  to  look  out  for  the  muels  that 
had  the  specie  onto  them.  Tony  here  got  the 
man,  an'  I  shot  the  muel  through  the  neck. 
I  could  swear  to  that.  Well,  that  thar  muel 
turned  an'  run  like  he  never  run  before,  an' 
got  away  with  the  Injuns  completely.  He 
took  right  down  by  your  ranch  too.  Didn't 
see  nothing  of  him,  I  reckon,  did  you  ?" 

I  shook  my  head. 

"  Well,  thar's  a  kind  of  a  lucky  feller  down 
your  way,  I  don't  know  what  his  name  is, 
who  has  a  mighty  fine  chance  of  findin' 
pocket-books  when  everybody  else  is  done 
lookin'  for  them,  an'  I  didn't  know  but  what 
he  might  try  his  hand  at  findin'  that  muel 
with  five  thousand  dollars  in  specie  strapped 
onto  him.  That  would  be  a  pretty  good  haul 
for  him,  wouldn't  it  ? " 

"Yes,  it  would,"  I  replied.  "But  he 
would  have  to  give  it  up  to  the  paymaster." 

"Oh,  he  would,  would  he?"  exclaimed  the 
fierce-looking  man.  "  If  he  found  it,  it  would 
be  his'n,  wouldn't  it?" 

"You   needn't  look  for  those  boys  to  do 


330  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

anything  like  that,"  said  Henderson,  with  a 
sneer.  "  They  would  give  it  up  to  the  pay- 
master and  get  five  hundred  dollars  for  it.  It 
is  a  big  thing  to  be  honest !  " 

"  Well,  I  think  we've  made  as  much  as  you 
have  by  being  honest,"  said  I.  "You  don't 
seem  to  be  loaded  down  with  money." 

"  But  I  would  have  had  half  a  million  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  you  and  others  like  you," 
muttered  Henderson  between  his  clenched 
teeth. 

"  You  had  all  the  chance  in  the  world,"  I 
replied.  "No  one  came  near  you  when  you 
were  searching  that  house.  You  see  luck 
wasn't  on  your  side." 

"What  did  you  come  here  for  anyhow?" 
asked  one  of  the  men.  "Folks  say  that  you 
came  here  to  buy  cattle,  but  I'll  be  switched 
if  I  don't  believe  you  came  here  to  help 
Davenport.  You  aint  got  no  money  to  buy 
cattle." 

This  started  us  off  on  a  new  topic  of  conver- 
sation, but  Henderson  seemed  to  find  fault 
with  everything  I  said.  I  couldn't  reply  to  a 
single  question  but  it  would  start  some  spite- 


MY   FRIEND  THE   OUTLAW.  331 

ful  remark  on  his  part.  I  really  did  not  see 
how  the  men  stood  it.  Finally  Coyote  Bill 
came  back,  and  I  noticed  that  his  pipe  was 
empty.  He  had  smoked  it  out  with  the  chief 
in  gaining  his  point,  and  I  wanted  to  hear  him 
say  that  he  had  obtained  permission  to  torture 
me  at  sunrise ;.  but  he  said  nothing  of  the 
kind,  so  that  was  one  lie  of  Henderson's 
nailed. 

"Carlos,  you  had  better  go  to  sleep,"  were 
the  first  words  he  spoke.  "We  have  got  a 
long  ride  before  us  in  the  morning,  and  you 
won' t  feel  a  bit  like  getting  up." 

"You  want  to  watch  him  close  for  fear  that 
he  will  escape,"  chimed  in  Henderson,  who 
could  not  possibly  let  a  chance  go  without 
saying  something. 

"He  won't  escape.  He  won't  try  to;  will 
you,  Carlos?"  continued  Bill,  turning  to  me. 

"Not  much,"  I  said.  "Where  shall  I  lie 
down  so  that  I  will  not  be  in  the  way  ? " 

Bill  selected  a  place,  and  picking  up  my 
saddle  and  bridle— I  do  not  know  what  made 
me  hang  on  to  them,  for  I  did  not  suppose  I 
would  be  allowed  to  ride  my  own  horse  in  the 


332  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

morning— and  with  a  cheery  "Good-night, 
fellows  ;  pleasant  dreams,"  I  laid  down  on 
it.  The  majority  of  the  men  never  paid  any 
attention  to  my  salutation.  Bill  was  the  only 
one  who  noticed  it,  and  he  said:  " Thank 
you;  the  same  to  you,"  and  that  made  me 
think  more  than  ever  that  he  had  been  well 
brought  up. 

"That's  a  brave  fellow,"  I  heard  him  say  as 
I  arranged  my  saddle  for  a  pillow  and  laid 
down  with  my  back  to  the  fire.  "It  would 
be  a  great  pity  if  anything  should  happen 
to  him." 

"  And  you  are  going  to  give  him  a  chance  to 
escape  in  the  morning,"  growled  Henderson. 
"  I  wish  to  goodness " 

"Go  to  bed,"  said  Coyote  Bill,  in  his  ordi- 
nary tone  of  voice. 

"I  wish  to  goodness  that  you,  or  any  fellow 
like  you,"  began  Henderson,  "had  sense 
enough  to  see 

"Go  to  bed  !  "  said  Bill,  and  in  an  instant 
his  revolver  was  out  and  was  looking  Hender- 
son squarely  in  the  eyes.  This  was  the  third 
time  that  Henderson  had  been  placed  in  a 


MY   FRIEND   THE   OUTLAW.  333 

similar  situation,  but  on  this  occasion  lie 
didn'  t  say  anything  back.  He  knew  that  Bill 
was  in  just  the  right  mood  to  shoot.  He  gath- 
ered up  his  saddle  and  blanket,— I  didn't  have 
any  blanket  to  cover  myself  with,  and  the 
nights  were  getting  cold, — and  that  was  the 
last  I  saw  of  him  that  night. 

"I  made  it,"  said  Bill,  as  soon  as  Hender- 
son was  out  of  hearing.  UI  smoked  a  pipe 
with  the  chief,  and  he  came  over  to  my  way 
of  thinking.  Jack,  you  will  ride  down  to  the 
house  with  us  in  the  morning." 

"But  look  here,  Bill,"  said  the  man  who 
had  done  most  of  the  talking  with  me. 
"  Don't  you  think  those  boys  would  be  some 
kin  to  the  biggest  kind  of  dunces  if  they  went 
off  to  escape  from  the  hostiles,  an'  left  their 
plunder  buried  where  you  could  find  it  ? 
That's  what's  been  running  in  my  head  ever 
since  you  went  out  to  see  the  chief." 

"No,  I  don't  think  so,"  replied  Bill. 
"They  went  off  in  a  hurry,  did  they  not,  and 
forgot  to  take  some  of  their  things  with  them. 
We  have  made  thirty  thousand  dollars  this 
trip,  and  that  is  something  worth  having." 


334  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

4 'Yes,  an'  that  dog-gone  muel  got  away 
from  us.  I  expect  that  lucky  feller  at  the 
ranch  will  have  him." 

"  Well,  we  can't  help  that.  And  if  I  don't 
find  the  money  this  time,  I  have  got  some- 
thing else  in  store  for  Bob.  I'll  pounce  on 
him  every  chance,  and  steal  his  cattle  by 
piece-meal,  until  he  is  driven  from  the 
country.  And  I  wish  to  goodness  that  he 
had  never  come  into  it." 

"Here,  too!  I  don't  believe  there  was  any 
half  a  million  dollars  wrapped  up  in  his 
hide." 

"Oh,  yes!  there  was.  But  we  can't  touch 
it  now.  Those  men  have  been  to  Austin  and 
got  the  will  probated— 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? " 

"They  have  been  to  Austin  and  got  it 
proved,  and  the  property  is  all  in  Bob's  name. 
What  we  would  have  done  if  we  had  captured 
Bob  in  the  place  of  this  Carlos,  I  don't  know. 
Henderson  thinks  he  could  have  got  Bob  to 
sign  the  money  over  to  him,  but  what  good 
would  it  have  done?  They'd  say  right  away 
that  we  had  gained  the  signature  by  fraud,  and 


MY   FKIEND   THE   OUTLAW.  335 

then  we  would  have  a  war  on  our  hands,  I  bet 
you.  As  it  is,  we  can  keep  on  stealing  cattle  ; 
we  will  have  a  few  Rangers  to  whip,  and  that's 
all  it  will  amount  to.  I  am  going  to  bed." 

I  do  not  know  that  I  was  in  any  condition 
to  produce  sleep,  surrounded  as  I  was  by  men 
who  had  talked  with  satisfaction  of  seeing  me 
tortured  at  sunrise  ;  but  it  is  a  fact  that,  as 
soon  as  Coyote  Bill  sought  his  blankets,  I  sank 
into  an  untroubled  slumber,  from  which  I  was 
awakened  by  Bill's  shaking  me  and  ordering 
me  to  catch  up.  I  started  up,  only  to  find 
that  somebody  had  thrown  a  blanket  over  me 
while  I  was  asleep,  and  to  see  that  the  camp 
of  Indians  was  gone,  and  that  there  was  no 
one  in  sight  except  Coyote  Bill,  his  man 
Gentleman  Jack, — I  did  not  kno-.v  what  else  to 
call  him, — and  Henderson. 

"They  have  all  gone  away  with  the  cattle," 
said  Bill,  noting  my  feelings  of  surprise. 
"You  wouldn't  have  us  stay  around  here 
with  eight  hundred  head  of  stock  to  be  cap- 
tured, would  you  ?  They  have  gone  off  to  the 
Staked  Plains." 

I  noticed  while  Coyote  Bill  was  talking  that 


336  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

the  guns  were  scattered  all  around,  and  you 
will,  no  doubt,  wonder  that  I  did  not  catch 
one  of  them  up  and  turn  the  tables  on  them. 
There  was  a  price  of  five  thousand  dollars  set 
upon  the  head  of  Coyote  Bill,  and  it  would 
have  been  a  fine  thing  for  me  to  march  them 
all  in  as  prisoners,  but  I  knew  a  story  worth 
two  of  that.  One  was,  I  didn't  know  how 
many  pistols  Bill  had  about  his  person ; 
another  was,  there  might  be  some  men  in 
camp  a  short  distance  away  who  would  up- 
end me  before  I  fairly  got  the  gun  pointed ; 
and  furthermore,  I  was  firmly  convinced  that 
if  I  did  just  as  I  was  told  to  do,  my  release 
would  come  in  good  time,  and  without  the 
necessity  of  shedding  anybody's  blood.  I  tell 
you  it  stands  a  fellow  well  in  hand  to  take  all 
these  points  into  consideration. 

Breakfast  over — and  we  ate  it  in  a  hurry, 
everyone  being  obliged  to  cook  his  bacon  on  a 
forked  stick  over  the  coals — there  was  nothing 
left  for  us  to  do  but  get  under  way.  Accord- 
ing to  Bill's  order,  I  picked  up  my  saddle 
and  followed  him  through  the  woods  to  the 
prairie,  and  there  I  found  my  horse  tied  up  to 


MY   FRIEND   THE   OUTLAW.  337 

a  brush.  I  was  glad  to  see  him  again,  and 
when  I  got  on  him  he  was  all  ready  for  a  race. 
During  the  whole  of  that  day  we  travelled  with- 
out scarcely  exchanging  a  word,  but  I  noticed 
that  at  the  top  of  every  swell  the  outlaws 
stopped  and  carefully  examined  the  ground 
before  them.  But  no  one  was  in  sight,  and 
finally,  just  as  the  sun  was  setting,  we  came 
within  sight  of  Bob's  ranch.  There  was  no 
one  about  it,  not  even  a  steer  or  a  horse.  I 
saw  that  Bill  carried  my  weapons  about  with 
him,  and  I  thought  that  now  was  his  time  to 
hand  them  to  me,  but  Bill  had  different  ideas 
in  his  own  mind. 

"Appearances  are  often  deceptive,"  said 
he.  "  Carlos,  suppose  you  ride  on  and  see  if 
there  is  anybody  about  that  house.  If  you 
don't  find  anybody,  wave  your  hat  to  us." 

"  Anybody  can  see  that  he  has  a  fine  chance 
for  escape,"  snarled  Henderson,  who  was  as 
mad  now  as  he  had  been  the  night  before. 
"I  wish  I  had  your  power!" 

"What  would  you  do  with  it?"  asked 
Coyote  Bill. 

"I  would  let  him  feel  one  of  the  bullets  in 
22 


THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 


my  pistol,"  said  Henderson.  "You  won't 
get  anything  out  of  that  ranch  as  long  as 
you  let  him  escape.  He  heard  every  word 
you  said  last  night." 

"Did  you,  Carlos?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  did,"  said  I.  I  thought  I 
might  as  well  tell  the  truth  as  tell  a  lie. 
My  heart  was  in  my  mouth,  but  I  looked  Bill 
squarely  in  the  eye. 

"  Well,  I  want  to  know  if  you  are  going  to 
tell  it?" 

"If  you  tell  me  not  to,  I  shan't.  I  won't 
say  anything  about  it  while  you  are  around. 
I  shall  go  for  the  States  as  soon  as  I  can  get 
there,  and  Tom  will  go  with  me." 

"That  will  suit  me  exactly.  I  am  satisfied. 
Now,  go  on  and  see  if  you  can  find  anything 
around  that  ranch." 

Coyote  Bill  touched  his  hat — I  have  thought 
more  than  once  from  the  way  he  saluted  that 
he  had  been  in  the  army — and  I  rode  off. 
Some  things,  which  I  had  gone  over  so  many 
times  that  I  had  them  by  heart,  promptly 
came  back  to  me.  I  wondered  if  any  man 
who  was  captured  by  hostile  Indians  was  ever 


MY   FRIEND  THE   OUTLAW.  339 

treated  that  way  before.  What  Coyote  Bill 
saw  about  me  ;  whether  he  thought  there  was 
something  that  reminded  him  of  other  and 
happier  days,  I  don't  know.  Anyhow,  he 
had  saved  me  from  a  horrible  death,  and  for 
that  I  was  grateful.  I  don't  believe  there  was 
another  man  in  the  world  that  could  have 
done  it.  My  horse  neighed  shrilly  as  he  ap- 
proached the  house,  but  there  was  no  one  who 
came  out  to  answer  him.  I  kept  on  till  I  got 
to  the  porch,  and  there  I  found  the  door  open 
and  everything  in  the  greatest  confusion.  The 
ranch  looked  almost  as  bad  as  it  did  when 
Tom  Mason  got  through  searching  for  the  lost 
pocket-book,  only  the  things  were  not  all 
piled  in  the  same  place.  I  got  off  from  my 
horse  and  went  in.  Bob  Davenport's  pillow 
was  on  the  floor,  but  the  heavy  bag  of  gold 
which  he  had  left  after  paying  off  his  men 
was  gone.  I  looked  in  the  place  where  my 
money  was  hidden  and  found  that  it  was 
gone,  too.  Bob  hadn't  left  in  such  a  hurry 
that  he  had  forgotten  to  take  his  valuables 
with  him.  I  knew  that  Coyote  Bill  was  de- 
pending on  something  he  never  could  find,  but 


340  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

then  I  freely  forgave  him.  It  was  a  plan  of 
his  to  aid  me  in  my  escape.  When  I  had 
fully  satisfied  myself  that  the  money  had 
been  taken,  I  went  out  on  the  porch  and 
waved  my  hat  to  Bill,  and  then  I  went  into  the 
grove  to  look  where  Sam  Noble  had  concealed 
his,  but  that  also  had  been  taken  away.  Poor 
Sam  !  He  would  never  miss  his  money  now. 
And  I  wondered  what  had  become  of  the 
other  two  cowboys.  I  didn't  like  to  enquire 
about  it. 

"  It  is  gone,  is  it?"  exclaimed  Bill,  who  at 
that  moment  came  galloping  up.  "  Well,  we 
have  had  our  trouble  for  our  pains.  How  do 
things  look  in  the  house?" 

"You  can  go  in  and  see,  but  everything 
that  will  be  of  use  to  you  has  been  removed," 
••-.aid  I.  "  Are  you  going  to  burn  the  house  ?  " 

"  Burn  it  ?  What  should  I  want  to  burn  it 
for  ?  I  want  Bob  to  come  back  here  and 
live." 

"  And  you  are  mighty  foolish  for  telling  me 
of  it,"  said  I  to  myself.  "  I  will  never  let  him 
stay  in  this  house  again.  That's  one  thing 
that  I  didn't  promise  to  keep  to  myself." 


MY  FRIEND  THE   OUTLAW.  341 

Coyote  Bill  tossed  his  reins  to  Iris  man  and 
went  in,  but  he  did  not  spend  much  time  in 
looking  around.  It  was  plain  to  him  that  no 
money  could  be  concealed  there,  and  finally 
lie  came  out,  took  my  rifle  off  his  back  and 
handed  it  to  me. 

"  There  you  are,"  said  he,  "and  I  want  you 
to  understand  that  the  gun  hasn't  been  fired 
since  you  gave  it  up.  There's  your  revolvers. 
Now  buckle  them  around  your  waist,  so  that 
I  can  see  how  you  look." 

I  wondered  what  Bill  was  thinking  of  when 
he  did  this,  but  I  took  the  belt  and  put  it 
around  my  waist  where  it  belonged,  and 
looked  up  for  the  man  to  tell  what  else  he  had 
on  his  mind. 

"Now,  Henderson,  you're  even,"  said  Bill. 
"  You  said,  if  you  had  the  power,  you'd  make 
him  taste  one  of  the  bullets  in  your  pistol. 
Now  go  ahead." 

I  turned  toward  Henderson,  and  saw  that 
his  right  hand  was  fumbling  with  the  pistol  in 
his  holster.  A  minute  more  and  he  would 
have  me  covered  with  it.  I  looked  toward  Bill 
to  see  what  he  thought  about  it. 


342  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

"You're  even,"  said  he,  stepping  back 
a  pace  or  two.  "  You  have  got  more  weapons 
than  he  has." 

I  saw  the  point  Coyote  Bill  was  trying  to 
get  at,  and  in  a  second  I  had  Henderson's  head 
covered  with  one  of  my  revolvers. 

"  Hands  up  !  "  said  I  hotly  ;  and  his  hands 
came  up. 

"Bill,  I  didn't  think  that  of  you,"  said 
Henderson,  who  was  fairly  beside  himself  with 
rage. 

"You  told  me  that  all  you  wanted  was  to 
get  the  power  in  your  hands,"  said  Bill. 
"Now  you  have  it,  and  I  don't  see  why  you 
don't  use  it.  Be  quick!" 

I  kept  my  eyes  fastened  upon  Henderson, 
and,  fearing  that  Bill's  taunts  might  lead  him 
to  do  something  wrong,  for  which  he  would 
always  be  sorry, — for  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
derision  in  what  Bill  said,  and  it  showed  what 
a  high  estimation  he  had  of  Henderson's 
courage, — I  held  my  revolver  in  readiness  for 
a  shot,  and  stepped  forward  and  took  his  gun 
from  its  holster  and  handed  it  to  Bill.  The 
latter  took  it  with  an  expression  of  great  dis- 


MY  FRIEND  THE  OUTLAW.  343 

gust  on  his  face,  looked  at  it  a  moment,  and 
sent  it  as  far  out  on  the  prairie  as  his  sinewy 
arm  could  throw  it. 

i '  I  don' t  see  what  your  object  is  in  shooting 
me,  who  haven't  done  you  any  harm,"  I  said, 
addressing  myself  to  Henderson,  "but  I  tell 
you  not  to  attempt  anything  with  that  rifle. 
If  you  do,  I  will  tumble  you  off  your  saddle  !  " 

"Henderson  will  not  attempt  to  shoot  us 
with  that,"  said  Bill.  "If  he  does  he  will 
have  three  of  us  to  contend  with,  and  I  think 
that  is  rather  more  than  he  can  manage. 
Now,  Henderson,  go  for  Austin  as  soon  as 
you  can  get  there." 

"And  give  up  my  share  of  those  thirty 
thousand  dollars  ?  "  exclaimed  Henderson,  his 
astonishment  getting  the  better  of  his  alarm. 
"Now,  Bill,  that  isn't  right!" 

Almost  before  Henderson  had  got  through 
with  these  words  of  protest,  Bill's  hand  laid 
hold  of  his  revolver,  while  with  the  other  he 
pointed  out  the  direction  he  was  to  follow.  I 
noticed  that  Jack's  revolver  came  out  also— he 
had  been  sitting  in  his  saddle  all  this  time— 
and  rested  across  the  horn,  directly  in  range 


344  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

with  Henderson's  person.  He  saw  that 
everything  was  up  with  him,  and  without 
saying  a  word  turned  his  horse  and  rode 
away  ;  and  I  may  add  that  was  the  last  I 
ever  saw  of  Henderson.  We  went  to  Austin 
a  short  time  afterward,  and,  although  we 
kept  a  bright  lookout  for  him,  not  a  thing 
did  we  see  of  him.  Whatever  became  of  him 
I  don't  know. 

"Well,  Carlos,  so-long,"  said  Bill,  when 
Henderson  had  ridden  away  out  of  hearing. 
"I  hope  you  will  reach  the  States  in  safety. 
Put  it  there." 

"  Are  you  going  to  leave  me  here  ?  "  said  I, 
overjoyed. 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  we  might  as  well.  What 
do  you  say,  Jack?" 

"Let  the  kid  go.  He's  a  brave  lad," 
returned  Jack. 

"Now,  Bill,"  said  I;  as  I  took  the  out- 
law's hand  in  mine,  "I  want  to  say  some- 
thing, if  I  thought  you  would  not  take  it 
to  heart." 

"No  preaching,  now  !"  said  Bill,  with  a 
laugh. 


MY    FRIEND   THE   OUTLAW.  345 

"  No,  I  won't  preach.  Why  do  you  do 
this?" 

"  Well,  that's  preaching,  and  I  didn't  agree 
to  answer  every  one  of  your  questions." 

"You  see  something  about  me  that  reminds 
you  of  days  when  you  did  not  do  this  way," 
said  I.  "  That  person  don't  know  where  you 
are,  and " 

"That's  neither  here  nor  there,"  said  Bill 
impatiently.  "So-long,  Carlos.  Come  on, 
Jack." 

Jack  reached  down  from  his  saddle  in  order 
to  give  me  a  good  shake,  and  then  clattered 
off  up  the  prairie  after  Bill.  I  stood  and 
watched  them  for  a  long  time,  but  neither  of 
them  looked  around,  and  finally  the  nearest 
swell  hid  them  from  sight.  There  was  some- 
thing good  about  that  man,  and  I  never  heard 
of  him  afterward.  Probably  he  lost  his  life 
in  some  of  his  numerous  raiding  expeditions. 
But  there  was  one  thing  about  it :  He  left 
one  boy  behind  who  was  sorry  for  him. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

WHEN"  Coyote  Bill  and  Jack  had  disap- 
peared, and  a  glance  in  the  direction 
Henderson  had  gone  showed  me  that  he  also 
had  vanished,  I  began  to  think  about  myself. 
I  was  alone  on  the  prairie,  but  I  didn't  care 
for  that  as  much  as  I  did  for  the  safety  of  Bob 
Davenport  and  the  men  who  had  gone  away 
with  him.  I  staked  out  my  horse,  and  while  I 
was  thinking  about  it,  it  occurred  to  me  that 
now  was  the  time  to  find  Henderson's  revolver. 
I  had  taken  particular  notice  of  where  it  fell ; 
and  after  half  an  hour's  looking  I  had  the  sat- 
isfaction of  securing  the  weapon  which  had  so 
nearly  been  the  cause  of  my  death.  It  was 
silver-mounted,  of  forty-five  calibre,  just  big 
enough  to  take  the  cartridges  intended  for  his 
rifle,  and  on  the  trigger-guard  bore  the  name 
of  its  luckless  owner,  Clifford  Henderson. 
"Good!"  said  I,  taking  my  steps  back 

346 


CONCLUSION.  347 

toward  the  ranch.  "As  often  as  I  look  at 
it  I  shall  remember  him,  and  if  Bob  doesn't 
want  it,  I  will  always  keep  it.  Let's  see  what 
effect  this  bullet  would  have  had  upon  me." 

Sitting  on  a  tree  close  by  was  a  robin— I 
knew  that  the  weather  was  getting  cold  up 
North,  for  the  birds  had  already  come  down 
to  us — and  I  tried  the  bullet  on  the  robin 
from  where  I  stood,  and  saw  him  come  down 
without  his  head.  If  Clifford  Henderson  was 
as  good  a  shot  as  I  was,  he  could  not  well 
have  missed  me  at  that  distance. 

The  next  thing  was  to  find  something  to  eat, 
and  then  came  a  pipe,  during  which  I  thought 
the  matter  over.  There  was  one  thing  on 
which  I  had  long  ago  made  up  my  mind,  even 
before  separating  from  Coyote  Bill,  and  that 
was  that  Bob  Davenport  should  not  be  per- 
mitted to  stay  in  that  ranch  any  longer  than  I 
could  help.  Coyote  Bill  was  determined  to 
have  that  money  or  drive  him  from  the  coun- 
try. I  gained  this  much  from  the  conversation 
that  Bill  had  had  with  some  of  his  men,  and 
how  was  I  to  prevent  it  ?  I  was  going  to  the 
States,  and  I  was  resolved  that  Bob  should  go 


348  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

too.  I  was  getting  sick  and  tired  of  so  much 
pistol-drawing,  I  did  not  want  to  see  any  more 
of  it,  and  I  would  get  back  among  civilized  men. 
There  was  where  I  belonged,  anyway.  And 
Tom  Mason,  he  must  go  along  too,  and  relieve 
the  suspense  which  I  knew  his  aged  relative 
would  feel  at  not  hearing  from  him  in  so  long. 
He  did  not  know  but  Tom  was  dead,  and  a 
letter  would  go  far  to  cheer  him  up.  But  how 
should  I  go  to  work  upon  Bob  and  Tom  and 
so  get  them  out  on  the  water,  where  I  could 
tell  them  everything?  Well,  there  was  another 
day  coming,  and  I  would  see  how  it  looked 
after  I  had  slept  on  it. 

The  next  day  passed  and  still  another,  and 
in  the  meantime  I  employed  myself  in  bring- 
ing order  out  of  the  confusion  in  the  ranch 
and  making  it  look  as  though  somebody  lived 
there,  and  not  a  sign  did  I  see  of  the  returning 
Bob  Davenport.  I  began  to  think  something 
had  happened  to  them.  I  did  not  dare  to  go 
out  to  look  for  them,  for  I  might  run  across 
some  men  belonging  to  Coyote  Bill's  band, 
who  wouldn't  treat  me  half  as  well  as  their 
leader  did,  so  I  thought  I  had  best  stay  righ  t 


CONCLUSION.  349 

where  I  was.  On  the  evening  of  the  sixth 
day,  when  I  had  got  so  worked  up  that  I 
didn't  think  I  could  stand  it  any  longer,  I  was 
startled  out  of  a  year's  growth  by  seeing  a 
body  of  horsemen  approaching  the  ranch. 

"Is  that  Henderson?"  I  exclaimed,  feeling 
the  cold  chills  creep  all  over  me.  "If  it  is, 
he  has  brought  men  enough  with  him  to  com- 
plete his  work.  I  will  give  them  as  good  as  I 
have  got." 

I  rushed  into  the  house,  and  when  I  came 
out  my  rifle  was  in  my  hands  and  my  revol- 
vers strapped  around  my  waist.  The  horse- 
men had  by  this  time  approached  near  the 
ranch,  and  I  could  make  out  that  one  of  them 
was  Bob  Davenport.  How  I  cheered  and 
yelled  at  them  !  An  answering  yell  came  in 
response,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  was  shaking 
my  friends  by  the  hand.  I  never  hoped  to  see 
them  looking  so  well;  there  wasn't  one  of 
them  that  had  been  hurt.  To  repeat  the  ques- 
tions that  were  propounded  to  me  were  impos- 
sible, but  in  a  few  minutes  I  gave  them  to  un- 
derstand that  I  had  escaped  from  the  enemy 
all  right,  that  I  had  seen  the  place  where  Sam 


350  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

Noble  had  been  knocked  in  the  head,  and  that 
I  had  stayed  around  outside  the  ranch  for 
two  days  before  I  mustered  up  courage 
enough  to  return  to  it.  Oh,  what  a  lie  that 
was  !  But  it  served  my  purpose  very  well, 
and  besides  I  told  Bill  that  I  wouldn't  repeat 
what  he  said  about  Bob,  where  it  would  do  him 
any  harm.  When  I  got  him  away  I  could  tell 
him  my  story.  Did  I  do  wrong  in  keeping 
the  promise  I  made  to  an  outlaw  ?  Remember 
he  was  the  man  who  had  placed  me  where  I 
was  that  day.  If  that  man  had  withdrawn 
his  protection  from  me  I  would  have  died  an 
agonizing  death. 

"Well,  you  have  had  a  time  of  it!"  said 
Bob,  who  pulled  up  a  chair  and  seated  himself 
beside  me.  "We  have  been  to  Austin  twice, 
and  Tom  got  a  letter  off  to  his  uncle." 

"Good  enough  !  "  said  I,  feeling  that  a  big 
load  had  been  removed  from  my  shoulders. 
"Tom,  you  and  I  will  go  to  the  States 
together." 

"Are  you  going,  too?"  exclaimed  Bob. 
"  Well,  I  am  going,  and  that  will  make  three. 
Elam,  here,  thinks  he  can't  go." 


CONCLUSION.  351 

In  fact  I  hadn't  looked  toward  Elam,  but  I 
looked  at  him  now,  and  his  face  was  as  long 
as  you  please.  He  didn't  like  it  when  his 
friends  were  talking  of  going  away  and 
leaving  him. 

uAnd  that  isn't  all,"  continued  Bob. 
"You  know  that  those  soldiers  who  came  by 
here  before  you  left  told  us  that  the  savages 
had  made  an  attack  on  the  paymaster,  and 
made  an  attempt  to  secure  the  thirty-five 
thousand  dollars  which  he  was  taking  to  pay 
off  the  garrison  at  Fort  Worth.  They  tried 
to  shoot  the  mules,  and  they  got  all  of  them 
except  one,  and  he  ran  most  all  the  way  to 
Austin." 

"Didn't  they  catch  him?"  I  asked;  and 
I  felt  that  I  was  going  to  hear  something 
thrilling.  Bill's  men  had  spoken  of  this  a 
time  or  two,  and  predicted  that  Tom's  luck 
would  stand  him  well  in  hand  if  he  was  dis- 
posed to  look  for  this  mule,  too,  but  some- 
how I  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  them  ; 
but  now  I  knew  that  Tom  had  had  a  finger 
in  this  also.  That  fellow  just  beat  the  world 
for  finding  things  ! 


352  THE  MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

"Has  Tom  found  it?"  I  continued,  so 
amazed  that  I  could  hardly  speak. 

"Yes,  sir!  Tom  has  found  it,"  said  Bob. 
"We  heard  about  it  when  we  were  in  Aus- 
tin, but  we  had  so  many  other  things  to  think 
of  that  we  hardly  thought  of  it  again  ;  but 
on  our  way  home  we  ran  across  the  mule  in  a 
little  grove  of  post-oaks." 

"Dead,  was  he?" 

"As  dead  as  a  door-nail.  But  we  found 
the  specie  all  right,  and  we  took  it  back  to 
Austin,  and  gave  it  to  a  paymaster  there. 
You  see  the  paymaster  that  had  charge  of 
the  money  was  killed  in  the  fight.  We  told 
him  that  we  wanted  a  thousand  dollars  for 
giving  it  up,  and  he  said  he  would  write  on 
to  Washington  and  see  what  they  said 
about  it." 

"  I  don't  want  anything  for  it,"  said  Tom. 

"That's  what  he  tried  to  say  when  he  was 
in  the  presence  of  the  paymaster,"  said  Bob. 
"The  United  States  is  worth  more  than  he 
is,  and  I  resolved  that  he  should  have  that 
amount  of  money.  That  was  fair,  wasn't  it  ? 
We'll  stop  aiid  get  it  when  we  go  back." 


CONCLUSION.  353 

uOf  course  it  was.  But,  Bob,  what  put  it 
into  your  head  to  go  up  to  the  States  ?" 

"  Well,  I  think  I  will  be  safer  there  than  I 
will  anywhere  else,"  said  Bob.  "  Those  fel- 
lows were  after  my  money,  I  can  see  that 
plainly  enough,  and  I  will  take  it  and  put  it 
in  some  bank  out  of  their  reach.  Perhaps 
then  they  will  let  me  alone.  I  have  given  all 
my  cattle  to  Lena  and  Frank  to  keep  for  me 
until  I  come  back.  You  don't  see  many  cattle 
around  here,  do  you  ?  " 

I  confessed  that  I  had  not  seen  a  head  of 
stock  since  I  came  to  the  ranch,  and  that  was 
six  days  ago.  But  I  knew  where  they  were. 
Those  that  had  escaped  the  clutches  of  the 
savages  were  mixed  up  with  Mr.  Chisholm's 
cattle,  and  it  would  be  a  week's  job  to  get 
them  out. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  decided  to  go,  and 
I  didn't  know  how  I  was  going  to  talk 
it  into  you,"  said  I.  "  You  will  have  to 
see  Mr.  Chisholm  first.  He  is  your  guar- 
dian, you  know.  But  what  are  you  going 
to  do  with  Elam?  He  must  be  provided 
for." 

23 


354 


THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 


"He  has  hired  him  out  to  Lem  and  me," 
said  Frank. 

I  looked  at  Elam,  and  he  didn't  seem  to  be 
at  all  satisfied  with  the  change.  He  sat  with 
his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees  and  his  eyes 
fastened  on  the  floor.  Bob  got  up,  moved  his 
chair  close  to  his  side,  and  threw  his  arm  over 
Elam's  shoulder. 

"  If  this  doesn't  suit  you,  say  the  word,  and 
you  will  go  North  with  me,"  said  he.  "Our 
people  up  there  will  be  glad  to  see  you." 

"No,  I  can't  do  it,"  said  Elam.  "I'd  see 
so  many  broadcloth  fellers  up  there  that  I'd 
want  to  get  away  an'  hide  in  a  belt  of  post- 
oaks.  I  don't  belong  up  there,  anyway." 

"But,  Elam,  I  am  coming  back." 

"Well,  when  you  come  back,  I'll  talk  to 
you.  Now,  go  away  an'  let  me  alone.  I  can 
bear  it  best  by  myself." 

To  make  a  long  story  short— for  we  lost  no 
time  in  getting  out  of  Texas — we  made  up  our 
minds  to  start  for  Mr.  Chisholm's  bright  and 
early  the  next  morning.  It  would  take  us 
two  days  to  get  there.  Bob  had  all  my 
money,  as  well  as  the  funds  belonging  to  the 


CONCLUSION.  355 

cowboys,  and  we  knew  that  they  were  safe. 
I  said  nothing  about  my  coming  back  to 
search  for  the  hidden  valuables  in  the  hope  of 
turning  them  over  to  Coyote  Bill,  or  about 
Henderson's  attempts  to  draw  a  revolver  on 
me,  for  that  was  a  part  of  Bill' s  plan  to  aid 
me  in  my  escape  ;  and,  besides,  that  was  a 
secret  that  was  locked  in  my  own  breast  until 
we  got  to  sea. 

"Poor  Sam  won't  want  his  money  any 
more,"  said  I.  "I  saw  the  place  where  he  lost 
his  life.  But  the  other  two  cowboys  I  didn't 
see.  I  hope  they  are  at  Mr.  Chisholm's." 

I  never  slept  so  well  in  that  ranch  as  I  did 
that  night,  for  I  looked  upon  it  as  a  little 
short  of  a  miracle  that  my  party  had  all  come 
back  to  me.  They  had  travelled  all  the  way 
to  Austin  twice,  and  had  never  seen  an  Indian. 
That  was  better  than  I  did,  for  I  wanted  to 
tell  of  the  scenes  I  had  witnessed  in  that 
camp,  but  there  was  no  need  of  it.  When 
morning  came,  and  we  started  on  our  way,  I 
kept  a  close  watch  of  the  prairie  almost  in 
fear  of  seeing  some  of  Bill's  band,  but  they 
had  taken  their  eight  hundred  cattle  away  to 


356  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

be  slaughtered,  and  I  never  saw  them  again. 
Eight  hundred  cattle,  did  I  say?  I  believed 
they  had  more  than  that.  By  separating  his 
band  after  the  attack  on  the  paymaster  was 
made,  the  chief  had  been  able  to  attack  half  a 
dozen  ranches  almost  at  the  same  moment, 
and  got  away  with  some  cattle  at  each  place. 
I  thought  that  eight  thousand  head  of  stock 
would  more  nearly  fill  his  bill.  In  due  time 
we  pulled  up  at  Mr.  Chisholm's  ranch  just  at 
supper  time,  and  there  I  saw  something  that 
made  me  feel  good — a  couple  of  fellows  sitting 
in  chairs,  who  were  evidently  too  badly  hurt 
to  move  about.  The  one  had  an  arrow 
through  his  foot,  the  other  had  something  the 
matter  with  his  arm  ;  but  the  way  they  greeted 
us  proved  that  there  was  nothing  the  trouble 
with  their  lungs.  They  were  the  two  cowboys 
who  had  been  out  with  Sam  Noble  herding 
stock.  But  they  had  not  seen  me  when  I  was 
captured,  they  were  miles  away  by  that  time, 
and  so  I  breathed  easy. 

"  Well,  by  gum  !  if  you  fellows  aint  here 
yet,"  said  Mr.  Cbisholm.  "  Where  did  you 
leave  the  Indians?" 


CONCLUSION.  357 

"  Didn't  see  any  while  we  were  gone,"  said 
Bob,  who  ran  up  the  stairs  to  the  porch  and 
fairly  hugged  the  wounded  cowboys.  "  How 
do  you  do,  anyway  ?  You  have  seen  some 
Indians,  haven't  you?  How  did  you  boys 
manage  to  escape?" 

It  was  a  story  that  was  soon  told.  The  In- 
dians got  after  them  down  at  the  gully — how 
well  I  remembered  where  it  was! — and  killed 
Sam  and  his  horse  dead  at  the  first  fire.  The 
others  threw  themselves  behind  their  horses, 
Indian  fashion,  and  got  safely  off,  if  we  ex- 
cept the  two  arrows  that  went  through  them. 

"  But  my  money  is  what  troubles  me,"  said 
the  one  who  did  the  talking.  "  My  money  is 
what  bothers  me,  dog-gone  'em!  They  went 
to  our  ranch  an'  got  everything  we  had." 

"How  do  you  know?"  asked  Bob.  "I 
slept  at  the  ranch  last  night,  and  found  some- 
thing." 

"I  guess  you  dug  it  up  before  you  went 
away,  didn't  you?"  said  the  cowboy,  who 
was  overjoyed  to  hear  that  his  money  was 
safe.  "  I  can  rest  easy  now.  That's  what 
comes  of  having  a  friend." 


358  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

That  night,  after  supper,  the  money  which 
Bob  had  taken  the  precaution  to  carry  with 
him,  when  running  from  the  Indians,  was 
again  paid  out  to  the  men  with  the  exception 
of  the  thousand  dollars  due  Sam  Noble.  This 
was  paid  to  Mr.  Chisholm  in  the  hope  that 
some  of  his  heirs  might  claim  it,  when  it  was 
to  be  given  to  them.  Then  our  errand  was 
broached— that  we  were  going  to  the  States — 
and  it  threw  a  damper  on  all  of  them,  all 
except  Mr.  Chisholm.  He  had  been  thinking 
about  it  ever  since  the  attack  was  made  upon 
the  paymaster,  and  to  our  surprise  and 
delight  he  said: 

"Boys,  it  is  the  best  thing  you  can  do,  and 
the  sooner  you  get  about  it  the  better  you  wall 
suit  me.  If  you  were  my  own  boys  who  were 
going  off  I  couldn't  feel  worse  about  it.  But 
you  don't  say  anything  about  Elam." 

"  He  doesn't  want  to  go,"  said  Bob.  "  But 
we  are  coming  back  here  again,  or  at  least  to 
Denver,  and  ;f  he  will  buy  some  cattle  and  get 
back  there  by  next  summer,  we  will  see  him." 

"  I  can't  go,"  said  Elam.  "  I  don't  belong 
in  that  country  anyway." 


CONCLUSION.  359 

The  next  thing  was  to  arrange  it  so  that 
Elam  could  work  for  some  of  the  cowboys  dur- 
ing the  winter,  and  so  be  on  hand  to  buy  the 
cattle  when  spring  opened  up.  Finding  the 
two  wounded  cowboys  there  with  Mr.  Chis- 
holm  slightly  interfered  with  our  plans,  for 
now  we  were  compelled  to  divide  the  stock 
into  four  instead  of  two  equal  parts  ;  but  the 
cowboys  were  all  in  favor  of  it,  and  each  one 
agreed  to  take  Elam  as  long  as  he  was  willing 
to  stay  with  them.  But  Elam  was  already 
satisfied  with  the  arrangements  he  had  made 
with  Lem  and  Frank,  and  concluded  he  would 
stay  with  them.  When  he  made  this  decision 
he  got  up  and  went  out  of  doors.  I  could 
see  that  Bob  didn't  like  it  a  bit.  He  wished 
he  could  prevail  upon  Elam  to  go  North  with 
him. 

"It  isn't  any  use,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm. 
"  He  belongs  down  here,  and  here  he  is  going 
to  stay.  Now  let's  go  to  bed,  all  of  us.  In 
the  morning  I  will  have  you  up  at  the  first 
peep  of  day." 

The  next  morning  we  ate  breakfast  by  the 
aid  of  the  light  thrown  out  by  the  camp  fire 


360  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

on  the  hearth,  and  before  we  were  fairly 
done  we  received  the  order  "catch  up."  I 
tell  you  it  was  hard  work  to  part  from  those 
wounded  cowboys,  for  we  had  known  them 
longer  than  we  had  anybody  else.  The  one 
who  had  the  arrow  through  his  arm  insisted 
that  he  would  go  to  Austin  with  us,  but  Mr. 
Chisholm,  like  Uncle  Ezra  in  a  similar  case, 
"  put  his  foot  down,"  and  said  he  should  stay 
right  there  on  the  ranch  and  never  go  out  of 
it  until  he  came  back.  We  waved  our  hats  to 
them  as  long  as  we  remained  in  sight,  and 
when  the  neighboring  s wells  hid  them  from 
view,  we  felt  that  we  had  parted  from  some 
of  our  best  friends.  In  due  time  we  reached 
Austin  and  put  up  at  the  same  hotel  we 
stopped  at  before,  only  Lem  and  Frank  didn't 
receive  orders  to  sit  on  the  porch  and  look  out 
for  Henderson.  We  all  put  away  our  horses 
and  bent  our  steps  toward  the  bank.  The 
cashier  was  there,  and  he  said  Mr.  Wallace 
was  in  his  private  office.  He  was  busy  with 
his  papers, — in  fact  he  always  seemed  to  be 
busy, — but  he  laid  them  down  when  we  came 
in. 


CONCLUSION.  361 

"  Hello,  Chisholm,"  said  he.  "  What's 
up?" 

"These  boys  here  have  made  up  their 
minds  to  go  to  the  States,  and  I  want  to  sign 
Bob's  papers,"  said  he.  "Get  'em  all  out 
so't  I  can  have  them  off'n  my  mind." 

"Ah,  yes!  sit  down,"  said  the  banker. 
"  Bob,  how  are  you  ?  You  see,  you  didn't  go 
through  any  forms  the  last  time  you  were 
here,  and  I  must  have  some  now.  If  this  boy 
is  going  to  take  his  money  away  from  me  and 
deposit  it  in  some  Northern  bank,  I  must 
have  a  paper  which  authorizes  me  to  give  up 
the  money.  It  was  all  right  before,  but  it  has 
got  to  be  changed  now,"  he  added,  when  he 
saw  Mr.  Chisholm  double  up  his  huge  fist 
and  move  it  up  and  down  over  the  table. 
"  Sit  down,  and  I'll  send  for  a  lawyer  to  come 
right  here." 

It  was  all  very  easy  for  the  banker  to  say 
"sit  down,"  but  Mr.  Chisholm  preferred  to 
stand,  seeing  that  none  of  his  men  could  be 
seated  at  the  same  time.  Mr.  Wallace  sent 
for  a  lawyer,  giving  some  instructions  which  I 
did  not  understand,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 


362  THE  MISSING*  POCKET-BOOK. 

gentleman  made  his  appearance  with  a  roll  of 
papers  in  his  hand.  He  received  some  orders 
from  Mr.  Wallace,  and  in  less  time  than  it 
takes  to  tell  it  the  document  was  ready  for 
his  signature.  Mr.  Chisholm  protested,  but 
he  signed  his  name,  and  then  the  money  was 
ready  for  Bob  ;  the  banker  presenting  him 
with  the  box  which  contained  his  stocks  and 
bonds,  and  with  a  check  drawn  on  a  bank  on 
New  Orleans  for  the  rest  of  his  funds. 

"Now,  Bob,  good-by,"  said  the  banker, 
rising  to  his  feet  and  extending  his  hand.  "I 
hope  you  will  get  through  with  your  money 
safe.  Don't  let  anybody  steal  it  from  you." 

"  Steal  it?"  echoed  Bob. 

"  Certainly.  You  will  find  plenty  of  people 
on  the  road  who  will  gladly  relieve  you  of 
that  box.  Put  it  in  your  trunk,  and  stand 
guard  over  it  day  and  night." 

"By  George!  I  never  thought  of  that," 
said  Bob,  looking  distressed.  "  Elam,  you 
come  with  me.  Mr.  Chisholm  and  Tom  will 
have  to  go  with  the  rest  to  call  upon  that 
paymaster." 

Tom  Mason  knew  where   to  find  the  pay. 


CONCLUSION.  363 

master's  office,  and  with  the  distinct  un- 
derstanding that  he  was  to  ask  for  one 
thousand  dollars  for  returning  that  money, 
we  left  the  banker,  and  Bob  pursued  his  way 
to  his  hotel.  We  found  the  paymaster  there, 
and  he  recognized  Tom  the  moment  he 
came  in. 

"  You' re  back  already,  aint  you?"  said  he. 
"  Well,  I  haven't  heard  from  Washington 
yet,  but  I  tell  you  plainly  that  I  don't  think 
you  will  receive  more  than  one-tenth  of  the 
sum  you  returned  to  us.  Five  hundred 
dollars  will  more  than  pay  you  for  that." 

"These  boys  have  made  up  their  minds  to 
go  to  the  States,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm. 

"  Very  well.  You  have  a  power  of  attorney, 
I  suppose  ?" 

"No,  I  haven't  got  that,"  said  Mr.  Chis- 
holm, wondering  what  new  "form"  he  would 
have  to  go  through. 

"You  will  have  to  go  to  an  attorney  to  get 
it,"  said  the  paymaster.  "  Of  course,  if  he  is 
going  away,  I  shall  have  to  have  authority  to 
pay  the  money  to  somebody." 

"By  gum  !    Bring  on  the  paper,"  said  Mr. 


364  THE   MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

Chisholra,  looking  around  for  a  chair  in  which 
to  seat  himself. 

"  But  I  haven't  got  the  paper  here.  You 
will  have  to  go  to  a  lawyer  to  get  it." 

Mr.  Chisholm  slowly  went  out  of  the  pay- 
master's office,  and  we  all  followed  him.  He 
kept  on  without  saying  a  word,  and  finally  he 
stopped  in  the  office  of  the  surrogate — the 
same  man  who  had  looked  into  his  pistol 
when  he  was  here  before.  In  a  few  words  he 
made  known  to  him  the  situation. 

"  Why,  certainly;  you  must  have  a  power 
of  attorney  if  you  want  to  get  the  money," 
said  the  surrogate.  ' '  I  will  make  you  out 
one  in  five  minutes,  But,  mind  you,  you 
needn't  show  it  until  you  see  a  chance  of 
getting  the  money." 

This  new  "form"  was  complied  with,  and 
Mr.  Chisholm  paid  the  surrogate  the  sum  of 
ten  dollars  for  his  paper.  In  fact,  I  noticed 
that  he  didn't  charge  less  than  ten  dollars  for 
anything.  On  the  way  back  to  the  hotel  Tom 
offered  him  the  money,  but  Mr.  Chisholm 
waved  it  aside. 

"I  am  willing  to  pay  ten  dollars  to  have  my 


CONCLUSION.  365 

eyes  opened,"  said  he.  "If  anybody  ever 
gets  me  to  sign  any  papers  again,  I  want  to 
know  it.  I  am  done  probating  wills." 

Bob  was  considerably  disappointed  when  he 
found  that  Tom  wasn't  going  to  get  his 
money,  but  of  course  he  saw  that  it  was  all 
right.  The  next  day  we  spent  in  buying 
clothes,  and  devoted  the  next  to  the  purchase 
of  souvenirs  to  remind  Tom  of  his  cattle  life 
in  Texas.  On  the  next  day  Tom's  letter  came. 
Some  parts  of  it  were  brief  and  to  the  point, 
and  ran  as  follows  : 

You  had  better  come  home  now,  and  forget  all  about 
that  five  thousand  dollars.  You  didn't  take  it  anyway, 
and  why  should  the  matter  be  laid  to  you  ?  Your  uncle 
walks  with  a  cane,  and  was  so  excited  over  your  letter 
that  he  brought  it  to  me  to  reply  to  it.  Come  home  and 
see  him  at  any  rate. 

Tom  Mason  was  in  dead  earnest  to  go  home 
after  receiving  that  letter.  He  never  expected 
to  receive  a  letter  like  that  from  Joe  Coleman, 
but  then  Joe  wasn't  down  on  him  any  more 
than  the  rest  of  "Our  Fellows"  were.  The 
very  next  day  we  brought  our  trunks  down, 
all  ready  to  take  the  stage  to  Houston  by  way 


366  THE   MISSING  POCKET-BOOK. 

of  Clinton,  six  miles  from  the  sea.  Mr.  Chis- 
liolm  was  there  as  well  as  the  cowboys,  but  I 
couldn't  see  anything  of  Elam.  I  had  already 
given  him  my  horse,  and  the  way  he  received 
it  told  me  that  he  considered  that  a  good-by. 

"Well,  boys,  if  I  don't  see  you  again, 
hallo,"  said  Mr.  Chisholm,  hastily  drawing 
his  hand  across  his  eyes.  ' '  You  are  going 
far  away,  and  there's  no  knowing  what  will 
happen  to  you.  So-long." 

We  got  aboard,  the  driver  cracked  his  whip, 
and  we  were  whirled  away  from  some  of  the 
best  friends  a  man  ever  had.  Bob  was  very 
lonely  after  that,  and  it  was  only  when  he 
reached  Clinton  and  saw  the  steamer  that  was 
to  carry  him  across  the  Gulf  to  New  Orleans, 
that  he  recovered  his  usual  spirits.  Tom 
Mason  now  assumed  charge — he  was  more  at 
home  in  that  line  of  business  than  we  were — 
and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  after  we  reached 
Clinton  we  were  aboard  the  ship,  our  passage 
paid,  and  we  were  sitting  on  the  deck  watch- 
ing the  stevedores  at  their  labor.  This  I 
thought  to  be  a  good  time  for  my  story,  and 
I  brought  out  the  revolver  with  Clifford 


CONCLUSION.  367 

Henderson's  name  on  the  trigger  guard,  and 
for  an  hour  those  fellows  scarcely  interrupted 
me.  They  listened  spellbound.  When  I  was 
through  they  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief. 

"You  have  kept  your  word,  if  it  was  made 
to  an  outlaw,"  said  Bob.  "Now,  what  do 
you  suppose  his  object  was  ?  He  has  always 
seen  something  about  you  that  took  his  eye." 

"I  am  as  much  in  the  dark  as  you  are," 
I  replied.  "  I  only  know  that  he  saved  me 
from  death." 

For  a  long  time  after  this  Coyote  Bill  was 
our  principal  subject  of  conversation,  until  the 
steamer  got  under  way,  and  then  we  had  other 
topics  to  talk  about.  In  due  time  we  arrived 
in  New  Orleans  and  there  we  spent  just  one 
day,  in  order  to  deposit  our  money  in  the 
bank.  We  did  not  know  how  long  we  should 
remain  at  Tom  Mason's  home,  and  we  thought 
that  would  be  the  best  place  for  it.  At 
four  o'clock  we  took  passage  on  a  steamer 
from  which  we  were  not  to  get  off  until  we 
reached  Tom's  destination.  The  torches  were 
lighted  when  we  drew  up  to  the  landing,  but 
we  saw  there  a  carriage  and  an  old  gray- 


368  THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 

headed  man  leaning  on  a  cane.  I  knew  it  was 
General  Mason  before  Tom  spoke. 

"There's  my  uncle!"  he  exclaimed,  almost 
wild  with  delight.  "My  goodness,  how  he 
has  changed ! " 

Tom  ran  down  to  the  forecastle  and  cleared 
the  long  jump  of  ten  feet  to  reach  the  bank, 
and  hastened  up  to  where  the  old  man  stood. 
We  turned  away,  for  we  did  not  care  to  see 
that  meeting  between  uncle  and  nephew,  and 
when  we  got  our  luggage  ashore,  and  the 
steamer  was  backing  out  to  continue  her  jour- 
ney up  the  river,  Tom  came  down  to  us.  It 
was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  him  cry,  but  he 
blew  his  nose  with  a  blast  like  a  trumpet. 

"These  are  the  boys  who  stood  up  for  me 
when  I  was  friendless  and  alone,"  said  he. 
"  Bob  Davenport  and  Carlos  Burnett.  I  really 
wish  Elam  was  here,  so  that  you  could  shake 
him  by  the  hand,  for  he  is  the  one  who  took 
me  up  when  I  was  starving." 

"Where  is  he?"  ejaculated  the  old  gentle- 
man, who  tried  not  to  show  how  delighted  he 
was.  "Go  and  get  him.  I  want  to  see  him." 

As    it  was    somewhere    near   a    thousand 


CONCLUSION.  369 

miles  to  the  place  where  we  had  left  Elam,  we 
didn't  say  anything  about  going  after  him. 
We  passed  it  off  in  some  way,  and  followed 
the  old  man  into  the  carriage.  We  didn't  go 
to  sleep  at  all  that  night,  for  the  general  was 
anxious  to  hear  where  we  had  been,  and  what 
we  had  been  doing,  since  Tom  went  away. 
When  day  broke  I  went  on  the  porch  and 
looked  around.  There  was  a  splendid  planta- 
tion ;  everything  was  in  apple-pie  order,  and 
a  host  of  servants  ready  to  do  his  bidding,  and 
what  Tom  could  make  by  running  away  from 
a  home  like  that,  I  didn't  see.  I  expressed  as 
much  to  him  when  he  came  out  there  later. 

"  Because  I  was  a  fool,"  said  he.  "  Nobody 
could  make  anything  by  running  away  from 
a  home  like  this,  but  I  tell  you  it  has  opened 
my  eyes.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  got  among  friends 
from  whom  I  have  long  been  separated." 

That  day  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  "Our 
Fellows,"  who  rode  down  to  see  us,  and  I  tell 
you  I  found  them  good  fellows,  every  one. 
Tom  Mason  was  getting  up  on  a  par  with 
Sandy  Todd  now,  for  with  this  exception  he 
was  head  and  shoulders  above  every  one  of 
24 


370 


THE  MISSING   POCKET-BOOK. 


them.     His  sleeping  in  the  open  air  for  almost 
a  year  had  done  wonders  for  him. 

We  haven't  been  to  the  plains  yet  to  settle 
up  with  Uncle  Ezra  and  to  see  Elam,  but  we 
are  going  as  soon  as  spring  opens.  After  that 
Tom  will  settle  down  as  he  used  to  be  before, 
only  he  will  have  the  management  of  the 
plantation.  I  have  been  hunting  on  several 
occasions  with  "Our  Fellows,"  and  if  you 
could  see  Tom  when  he  was  toasting  his  shins 
in  front  of  our  camp-fire  and  telling  his 
stories,  you  would  say  that  none  of  Ms  adven- 
tures ever  had  so  great  an  effect  on  him  as 
those  that  befell  him  in  Texas. 


THE  END. 


FAMOUS  STANDARD 
JUVENILE  LIBRARIES. 

ANY   VOLUME  SOLD  SEPARATELY  AT  $J.OO  PER  VOLUME 

(Kxcept  the  Sportsman's  Club  Series,  Frank  Nelson  Series  and 

Jack  Hazard  Series.). 

Each  Volume  Illustrated.    J2mo.    Cloth. 


HORATIO  ALGER,  JR. 

THE  enormous  sales  of  the  books  of  Horatio  Alger,  Jr., 
show  the  greatness  of  his  popularity  among  the  boys,  and 
prove  that  he  is  one  of  their  most  favored  writers.  I  am  told 
that  more  than  half  a  million  copies  altogether  have  been 
sold,  and  that  all  the  large  circulating  libraries  in  the  country 
have  several  complete  sets,  of  which  only  two  or  three  vol- 
umes are  ever  on  the  shelves  at  one  time.  If  this  is  true, 
what  thousands  and  thousands  of  boys  have  read  and  are 
reading  Mr.  Alger's " books  !  His  peculiar  style  of  stories, 
often  imitated  but  never  equaled,  have  taken  a  hold  upon  the 
young  people,  and,  despite  their  similarity,  are  eagerly  read 
as  soon  as  they  appear. 

Mr.  Alger  became  famous  with  the  publication  of  that 
undying  book,  "Ragged  Dick,  or  Street  Life  in  New  York." 
It  was  his  first  book  for  young  people,  and  its  success  was  so 
great  that  he  immediately  devoted  himself  to  that  kind  of 
writing.  It  was  a  new  and  fertile  field  for  a  writer  then,  and 
Mr.  Alger's  treatment  of  it  at  once  caught  the  fancy  of  the 
boys.  "Ragged  Dick"  first  appeared  in  1868,  and  ever  since 
then  it  has  been  selling  steadily,  until  now  it  is  estimated 
that  about  200,000  copies  of  the  series  have  been  sold. 

— Pleasant  Hours  for  Boys  and  Girls. 


THE  JOHN   C.   WINSTON   CO/S    POPULAR   JUVENILES. 

A  writer  for  boys  should  have  an  abundant  sympathy 
with  them.  He  should  be  able  to  enter  into  their  planss 
hopes,  and  aspirations.  He  should  learn  to  look  upon  Ufa 
as  they  do.  Boys  object  to  be  written  down  to.  A  boy's 
h  lart  opens  to  the  man  or  writer  who  understands  him. 

— From  Writing  Stories  for  Boys,  by  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES. 

6vols.  BY  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  $6.00 

Ragged  Dick.  Rough  and  Ready. 

Fame  and  Fortune.  Ben  the  Luggage  Boy. 

Mark  the  Match  Boy.  Rufus  and  Rose. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES— First  Series. 

4vols.  BY  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  $4.00 

Tattered  Tom.  Phil  the  Fiddler. 

Paul  the  Peddler.  Slow  and  Sure. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES— Second  Series. 

4  vols.  $4.00 

Julius.  Sam's  Chance. 

The  Young  Outlaw.  The  Telegraph  Boy. 

CAMPAIGN  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  $3.00 

Frank's  Campaign.  Charlie  Codman's  Cruise 

Paul  Prescott's  Charge. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES— First  Series. 

4  vols.  BY  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  $4.00 
Luck  and  Pluck.                                  Strong  and  Steady. 
Smk  or  Swim.                                        Strive  and  Succeed. 


THE    JOHN    C.    WINSTON    CO.  S    POPULAR    JUVENILES. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES— Second  Series. 
4  vols.  $4.00 

Try  and  Trust.  Risen  from  the  Ranks. 

Bound  to  Rise.  Herbert  Carter 'st  Legacy. 

BRAVE  AND  BOLD  SERIES. 

4  vols.  BY  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  $4.00 

Brave  and  Bold.  Shifting  for  Himself. 

Jack's  Ward.  Wait  and  Hope. 

NEW  WORLD  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HORATIO  AI,GER,  JR.  $3.00 

Digging  for  Gold.     Facing  the  World.         In  a  New  World 

VICTORY  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  fo.ocr 

Only  an  Irish  Boy.  Adrift  in  the  City, 

Victor  Vane,  or  the  Young  Secretary, 

FRANK  AND  FEARLESS  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  $3-oo 

Frank  Hunter's  Peril.  Frank  and  Fearless. 

The  Young  Salesman. 

GOOD  FORTUNE  LIBRARY. 

3  vols.  BY  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  $3.00 

Walter  Sherwood's  Probation.     A  Boy's  Fortune, 
The  Young  Bank  Messenger. 

RUPERT'S  AMBITION. 

i  voL  BY  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  $1.00 

JED,  THE  POOR=HOUSE  BOY. 

i  vol.  BY  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  $1.00 


THE    JOHN    C.    WINSTON    CO/S    POPULAR    JUVENILES. 

HARRY  CASTLEMON. 

HOW  I  CAME  TO  WRITE  MY  FIRST  BOOK. 

WHEN  I  was  sixteen  years  old  I  belonged  to  a  composi- 
tion class.  It  was  our  custom  to  go  on  the  recitation  seat 
every  day  with  clean  slates,  and  we  were  allowed  ten  min- 
utes to  write  seventy  words  on  any  subject  the  teacher 
thought  suited  to  our  capacity.  One  day  he  gave  out  "What 
a  Man  Would  See  if  He  Went  to  Greenland."  My  heart  was 
in  the  matter,  and  before  the  ten  minutes  were  up  I  had  one 
side  of  my  slate  filled.  The  teacher  listened  to  the  reading 
of  our  compositions,  and  when  they  were  all  over  he  simply 
said  :  '  'Some  of  you  will  make  your  living  by  writing  one 
of  these  days."  That  gave  me  something  to  ponder  upon. 
I  did  not  say  so  out  loud,  but  I  knew  that  my  composition 
was  as  good  as  the  best  of  them.  By  the  way,  there  was 
another  thing  that  came  in  my  way  just  then.  I  was  read- 
ing at  that  time  one  of  Mayne  Reid's  works  which  I  had 
drawn  from  the  library,  and  I  pondered  upon  it  as  much  as 
I  did  upon  what  the  teacher  said  to  me.  In  introducing 
Swartboy  to  his  readers  he  made  use  of  this  expression  : 
"No  visible  change  was  observable  in  Swartboy 's  counte- 
nance." Now,  it  occurred  to  me  that  if  a  man  of  his  educa- 
tion could  make  such  a  blunder  as  that  and  still  write  a 
book,  I  ought  to  be  able  to  do  it,  too.  I  went  home  that  very 
day  and  began  a  story,  "The  Old  Guide's  Narrative,"  which 
was  sent  to  the  New  York  Weekly,  and  came  back,  respect- 
\ully  declined.  It  was  written  on  both  sides  of  the  sheets 
but  I  didn't  know  that  this  was  against  the  rules.  Nothing 
abashed,  I  began  another,  and  receiving  some  instruction, 
from  a  friend  of  mine  who  was  a  clerk  in  a  book  store,  I 
wrote  it  on  only  one  side  of  the  paper.  But  mind  you,  he 
didn't  know  what  I  was  doing.  Nobody  knew  it ;  but  on« 


THE   JOHN   C.    WINSTON   CO/S    POPULAR   JUVENILES. 

day,  after  a  hard  Saturday's  work — the  other  boys  had  been 
out  skating  on  the  brick-pond — I  shyly  broached  the  subject 
to  my  mother.  I  felt  the  need  of  some  sympathy.  She 
listened  in  amazement,  and  then  said  :  "Why,  do  you  think 
you  could  write  a  book  like  that  ?' '  That  settled  the  matter, 
and  from  that  day  no  one  knew  what  I  was  up  to  until  I  sent 
the  first  four  volumes  of  Gunboat  Series  to  my  father.  Was 
it  work  ?  Well,  yes  ;  it  was  hard  work,  but  each  week  I  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  manuscript  grow  until  the 
"Young  Naturalist"  was  all  complete. 

— Harry  Castlemon  in  the  Writer. 


GUNBOAT  SERIES. 

6vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  $6.00 

I  rank  the  Young  Naturalist.       Frank  before  Vicksburg. 
Frank  on  a  Gunboat.  Frank  on  the  Lower  Mississippi. 

Frank  in  the  Woods.  Frank  on  the  Prairie. 

ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  $3.00 

Frank  Among  the  Rancheros.     Frank  in  the  Mountains. 
Frank  at  Don  Carlos'  Rancho. 

SPORTSMAN'S  CLUB  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  $3-75 

The  Sportsman's  Club  in  the  Saddle.     The  Sportsman's  Club 
The  Sportsman's  Club  Afloat.  Among  the  Trappers. 

FRANK  NELSON  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  $3.75 

Snowed  up.         Frank  in  the  Forecastle.     The  Boy  Traders. 

BOY  TRAPPER    SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  $3-oo 

The  Buried  Treasure.     The  Boy  Trapper.     The  Mail  Carrier. 


THE  JOHN   C.    WINSTON    CO/S    POPULAR   JUVENILES. 

ROUGHING  IT  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  13.00 

George  in  Camp.  George  at  the  Fort. 

George  at  the  Wheel. 

ROD  AND  GUN  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  $3-oo 

Don  Gordon's  Shooting  Box.      The  Young  Wild  Fowlers. 
Rod  and  Gun  Club. 

GO=AHEAD  SERIES. 

3  vols,  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  $3-oo 

Tom  Newcombe.  Go-Ahead.  No  Moss. 

WAR  SERIES. 

6  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  $6.00 

True  to  His  Colors.  Marcy  the  Blockade-Runner. 

Rodney  the  Partisan.  Marcy  the  Refugee. 

Rodney  the  Overseer.  Sailor  Jack  the  Trader, 

HOUSEBOAT  SERIES. 

3  vols,  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  fe.oc 

The  Houseboat  Boys.         The  Mystery  of  Lost  River  Canon, 
The  Young  Game  Warden. 

AFLOAT  AND  ASHORE  bERIES, 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  $3.00 

Rebellion  in  Dixie.  A  Sailor  in  Spite  of  Himself. 

The  Ten-Ton  Cutter. 

THE  PONY  EXPRESS  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  HARRY  CASTLEMON.  $3.00 

The  Pony  Express  Rider.  The  White  Beaver 

Carl,  the  Trailer. 


JOHN   C.   WINSTON   CO/S   POPULAR 

EDWARD  S.  ELLIS* 

EDWARD  S.  EUvis,  the  popular  writer  of  boys'  books,  is 
A  native  of  Ohio,  where  he  was  born  somewhat  more  than  a 
half-century  ago.  His  father  was  a  famous  hunter  and  rifle 
shot,  and  it  was  doubtless  his  exploits  and  those  of  his  asso- 
ciates, with  their  tales  of  adventure  which  gave  the  son  his 
taste  for  the  breezy  backwoods  and  for  depicting  the  stirring 
life  of  the  early  settlers  on  the  frontier. 

Mr.  Ellis  began  writing  at  an  early  age  and  his  work  was 
acceptable  from  the  first.  His  parents  removed  to  New 
Jersey  while  he  was  a  boy  and  he  was  graduated  from  the 
State  Normal  School  and  became  a  member  of  the  faculty 
while  still  in  his  teens.  He  was  afterward  principal  of  the 
Trenton  High  School,  a  trustee  and  then  superintendent  of 
schools.  By  that  time  his  services  as  a  writer  had  become 
so  pronounced  that  he  gave  his  entire  attention  to  literature. 
He  was  an  exceptionally  successful  teacher  and  wrote  a  num- 
ber of  text-books  for  schools,  all  of  which  mejt  with  high 
favor.  For  these  and  his  historical  productions,  Princeton 
College  conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts. 

The  high  moral  character,  the  clean,  manly  tendencies 
and  the  admirable  literary  style  of  Mr.  Ellis'  stories  have 
made  him  as  popular  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  as  in 
this  country.  A  leading  paper  remarked  some  time  since, 
that  no  mother  need  hesitate  to  place  in  the  hands  of  her  boy 
any  book  written  by  Mr.  Ellis.  They  are  found  in  the  lead- 
ing Sunday-school  libraries,  where,  as  may  well  be  believed, 
they  are  in  wide  demand  and  do  much  good  by  their  sound, 
wholesome  lessons  which  render  them  as  acceptable  to  parents 
as  to  their  children.  All  of  his  books  published  by  Henry 
T.  Coates  &  Co.  are  re-issued  in  London,  and  many  have 
been  translated  into  other  languages.  Mr.  Ellis  is  a  writer 
of  varied  accomplishments,  and,  in  addition  to  his  stories,  is 
the  author  of  historical  works,  of  a  number  of  pieces  of  pop- 


THE   JOHN   C.    WINSTON   CO/S    POPULAR   JUVENILES. 

ular  music  and  has  made  several  valuable  inventions.  Mr. 
Ellis  is  in  the  prime  of  his  mental  and  physical  powers,  and 
great  as  have  been  the  merits  of  his  past  achievements,  there 
is  reason  to  look  for  more  brilliant  productions  from  his  pen 
«n  the  near  future. 


DEERFOOT  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  EDWARD  S.  ELLIS.  $3.00 

Hunters  of  the  Ozark.  The  Last  War  Trail. 

Camp  in  the  Mountains. 

LOG  CABIN  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  EDWARD  S.  ELLIS.  $3.00 

Lost  Trail.  Footprints  in  the  Forest. 

Camp-Fire  and  Wigwam. 

BOY  PIONEER  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  EDWARD  S.  ELLIS.  $3.00 

Ned  in  the  Block-House.  Ned  on  the  River. 

Ned  in  the  Woods, 

THE  NORTHWEST  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  EDWARD  S.  ELLIS.  $3.00 

Two  Boys  in  Wyoming.  Cowmen  and  Rustlers. 

A  Strange  Craft  and  its  Wonderful  Voyage. 

BOONE  AND  KENTON  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  EDWARD  S.  ELLIS.  $3«oo 

Shod  with  Silence.  In  the  Days  of  the  Pioneers. 

Phantom  of  the  River. 

IRON  HEART,  WAR  CHIEF  OF  THE  IROQUOIS. 

i  vol.  BY  EDWARD  S.  ELLIS.  |i.oo 

THE  NEW  DEERFOOT  SERIES. 

3  vols.  BY  EDWARD  S.  ELLIS.  $3.00 

Deerfoot  in  the  Forest.  Deerfoot  on  the  Prairie. 

Deerfoot  in  the  Mountains. 


THE   JOHN   C.   WINSTON    CO.  S    POPULAR   JUVENILES. 


J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE. 

NEITHER  as  a  writer  does  he  stand  apart  from  the  great 
currents  of  life  and  select  some  exceptional  phase  or  odd 
combination  of  circumstances.  He  stands  on  the  common 
level  and  appeals  to  the  universal  heart,  and  all  that  he  sug- 
gests or  achieves  is  on  the  plane  and  in  the  line  of  march  of 
the  great  body  of  humanity. 

The  Jack  Hazard  series  of  stories,  published  in  the  late 
Our  Voting  Folks,  and  continued  in  the  first  volume  of  St. 
Nicholas,  under  the  title  of  "Fast  Friends,"  is  no  doubt 
destined  to  hold  a  high  place  in  this  class  of  literature.  The 
delight  of  the  boys  in  them  (and  of  their  seniors,  too)  is 
well  founded.  They  go  to  the  right  spot  every  time.  Trow- 
bridge  knows  the  heart  of  a  boy  like  a  book,  and  the  heart 
of  a  man,  too,  and  he  has  laid  them  both  open  in  these  books 
in  a  most  successful  manner.  Apart  from  the  qualities  that 
render  the  series  so  attractive  to  all  young  readers,  they 
have  great  value  on  account  of  their  portraitures  of  American 
country  life  and  character.  The  drawing  is  wonderfully 
accurate,  and  as  spirited  as  it  is  true.  The  constable,  Sel- 
lick,  is  an  original  character,  and  as  minor  figures  where  will 
we  find  anything  better  than  Miss  Wansey,  and  Mr.  P.  Pip- 
kin, Esq.  The  picture  of  Mr.  Dink's  school,  too,  is  capital, 
and  where  else  in  fiction  is  there  a  better  nick-name  than 
that  the  boys  gave  to  poor  little  Stephen  Treadwell,  "  Step 
Hen,"  as  he  himself  pronounced  his  name  in  an  unfortunate 
moment  when  he  saw  it  in  print  for  the  first  time  in  his  les- 
son in  school. 

On  the  whole,  these  books  are  very  satisfactory,  and 
afford  the  critical  reader  the  rare  pleasure  of  the  works  that 
are  just  adequate,  that  easily  fulfill  themselves  and  accom- 
plish all  they  set  out  to  &Q,—Scribner's  Monthly. 


THE  JOHN    C.    WINSTON    CO/S    POPULAR   JUVENILES. 

JACK  HAZARD  SERIES. 

6vols.  BY  J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE.  $7.25 

Jack  Hazard  and  His  Fortunes.    Doing  His  Best. 

The  Young  Surveyor.  A  Chance  for  Himself. 

Fast  Friends.  Lawrence's  Adventures. 


International  Bibles 


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tional" Red  Letter  Testaments  and  Red  Letter  Bibles  with 
the  prophetic  types  and  prophecies  relating  to  Christ  in  the 
Old  Testament  printed  in  red,  and  the  words  of  Christ  in 
the  New  Testament  printed  in  red;  also  Christian  Workers' 
Testament  and  Christian  Workers'  Bible  in  which  all  sub- 
jects or  the  Theme  of  Salvation  are  indexed  and  marked 
in  red. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers.    Catalog  of  Books  and  Bibles 
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PHILADELPHIA,  PA, 


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